


Cold As It Gets

by enigmaticblue



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a very AU world after the BtVS S6 episode Grave and the Ats S4 episode, Orpheus. Spike never shows up in Sunnydale, Faith sticks around in L.A., since there's no First Evil to worry about in Sunnydale, and Angel and Connor manage to prevent Jasmine from rising. The AI gang is left fragmented until the Powers That Be decide to intervene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"To the end of the earth, I search for your face, for the one who laid all of our beauty to waste. Threw our hope into hell and our children to the fire. I am the one who crawled through the wire. There's a million sad stories on the side of the road. Strange how we all just got used to the blood. Millions of stories that will never be told, silent and froze in the mud. I know a cold as cold as it gets. I know a darkness that's darker than coal. A wind that blows as cold as it gets. Blew out the light of my soul…I know a cold as cold as it gets. I fight a war I may never see won. I live only to see you live to regret everything that you've done." ~Patty Griffin, "Cold As It Gets"_

 

Fred knew a little something about being crazy, which was part of the reason she'd volunteered for this job. The other part was that she was pretty much the only one with the energy. Ever since Cordy—

 

She sighed. She didn't blame the others for seizing any kind of distraction they could. Wesley had Faith, Angel and Connor had each other, and Fred had—well, she supposed she had Spike now, although mostly by default. No one else had the emotional energy to deal with him.

 

In another time and place, Fred might have had Gunn, but he wasn't around much these days. Actually, she hadn't seen him for a couple of weeks. They didn't really have many jobs, and now Faith was supplying the muscle most of the time. Gunn was spending his time with Gwen, and Fred had a pretty good idea what he was doing with her.

 

It didn't matter. They weren't together anymore. She had thought that maybe she and Wesley—but that one desperate kiss had been as far as it went. Wesley had buried Lilah and taken up his Watcher duties with Faith, leaving very little room for anything else.

 

Angel was still mourning Cordelia, months later, as was Connor. In some odd way, Fred supposed that their shared grief had built a bridge between them the way nothing else could have, although they still had a long way to go.

 

All this left Fred feeling like a fifth wheel, however.

 

Watching over Spike allowed her to feel useful again, like she hadn't made a mistake by staying. Fred knew that she could have gone back to Texas, or reapplied to the doctoral program at UCLA. She could have done a dozen different things that didn't involve feeling like a ghost in someone else's life. Fred had been right when she'd listed off everyone's purpose—Cordelia had been the heart, and without her they were lost.

 

She watched Spike sleep, so quiet, so still, and murmured, "Handsome man saved me."

 

Fred wondered if it was to be her destiny to forever be saved by souled vampires. They had been out on a job, clearing a nest of vampires. Wesley had been using his contacts from the previous summer and fall to drum up business for them. Everyone wanted to stay busy, but Angel didn't have the energy or the inclination to advertise their services, and he seemed content to allow Wesley to take over that side of the business.

 

Something about having to kill Cordelia had changed Angel's attitude towards Wesley. Fred wasn't exactly sure _what_ had changed, but it was enough to ease the tension between them enough to work together again.

 

Even though Fred had known her presence was unnecessary—she certainly didn't qualify as muscle—she had wanted to accompany the rest of the gang. She'd been doing just fine for herself until one of the vampires had managed to get her off into a corner, away from the others who had been too caught up in the fight to pay much attention to her.

 

Fred touched the bandage on her neck, knowing that it had been a close thing. If Spike hadn't shown up…

 

He'd come out of nowhere, dusting the vampire who had bitten her and shielding her from the rest of the fight.

 

She hadn't recognized him, of course. That had been Angel, who had looked ready to dust Spike immediately upon identification. Angel had met Spike's eyes, and Spike had said quietly, "You have the spark." Then he'd started muttering about girls and saving them and not being on time.

 

Fred didn't know what he was talking about, but Angel had seemed to understand. "We'll take him with us," he'd declared. So they had, and when it appeared as though they were simply going to leave Spike to his own devices in one of the empty rooms, Fred had volunteered to look after him.

 

She'd wanted a job, and she owed him.

 

"You're still here."

 

His voice startled her out of her thoughts, and Fred stared into Spike's blue eyes. He seemed lucid for the moment, and she wondered how long that would last. Did he have a cave that he'd retreated into, as she had? Would he stabilize as time went on, or would he always inhabit a world of his own?

 

"Yeah. I thought I'd sit with you." She gave him a hesitant smile. "How are you feeling?"

 

He frowned slightly, unmoving still. "I saved you?"

 

"That's right." Fred wondered what was going on behind his eyes. "You were right in the nick of time."

 

Pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, he stared down at his hands. "They look clean enough," he muttered.

 

Fred wrinkled her nose. "Not really." When Spike's head came up, his expression almost fearful, she shook her head. "Oh! I don't mean there's anything wrong with you. Not anything that a little soap and water wouldn't fix anyway. You could shower, and I'll see if I can find some clothes for you. Maybe some of Connor's will fit, although he doesn't have much. Of course, I'll have to find some other stuff. Soap and shampoo. Maybe a razor. Angel might have one. I can ask."

 

Her rambling was stopped by his finger on her lips. "Where am I?"

 

"The Hyperion," Fred replied. When that explanation didn't clear up his confusion, she added, "It's Angel's hotel. Well, our base of operations."

 

Spike frowned. "In L.A.?"

 

Fred beamed at him in approval. "That's right!" She watched as he digested that information, apparently turning it over in his mind.

 

"How'd I get here?"

 

"We drove mostly," Fred replied, wondering if he didn't remember the trip from the vampire-infested warehouse to the hotel. Wesley and Faith had left together, and Connor had disappeared as soon as the fighting was over. They'd put Spike in the back of Angel's convertible and driven back to the hotel.

 

It was probably a good thing that there hadn't been any others riding in the vehicle, and that they'd had the top down. Spike had obviously not gotten cleaned up in a while, and he looked—scruffy, Fred decided. Very scruffy.

 

"Why?"

 

"Why'd we drive or why are you here?"

 

"Why'm I here?" A faint smile touched his lips.

 

"Angel said to bring you. He said you had a soul now." Fred waited for Spike to confirm Angel's observation, but when he remained silent, she asked, "Was he right?"

 

"It burns," he murmured. "But not worse than the dreams. It's so hard to tell, you know?" Spike looked at her, his eyes begging for her understanding. "Between what's past and future. I never understood before. I tried to cut it out, but I couldn't."

 

Fred's gaze was drawn to his hand, rubbing anxiously at his chest. He shifted the black button-down shirt slightly, and she could see the livid cuts on his pale skin. "You're hurt."

 

He glanced down disinterestedly, as though it didn't matter, as though he hadn't noticed it before. "That's not where it hurts," Spike replied cryptically.

 

She didn't know what to do. Fred was fairly certain that Spike needed to get cleaned up, and that he needed to eat, but he didn't seem to be in a hurry to do either. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Spike, you have to eat."

 

He raised an eyebrow, appearing amused. "Alright."

 

It really was that easy.

 

~~~~~

 

Fred had never been the sort of girl who bossed people around. She was just goofy ol' Fred who walked with heroes. Except for the time she was in Pylea, Fred had mostly done what she was told with nary a sign of rebellion.

 

Spike, however, needed someone to order him around, and no one else cared enough to do it. So she told him to shower and get into the clean clothing that she found for him. Fred supposed that they were both lucky he and Connor were about the same size and that Connor had done laundry sometime in the recent past.

 

Not that Connor changed his clothing all that often. Being raised in a hell dimension seemed to cause personal hygiene to be regarded as optional. Connor was improving in that department, but Fred didn't feel qualified to talk to him about it, not after hitting him with a Taser, anyway.

 

Although, she still felt it had served Connor right for locking Angel up and sending him to the bottom of the ocean for months.

 

Spike followed her directions docilely enough, however, and Fred herded him down to the kitchen to eat. She'd expected Angel to stay in his room, where he could generally be found unless Connor was in the hotel, or they had a job that needed to be done. It was probably better that the two vampires be kept apart for the time being. Fred had heard a few stories about the animosity that lay between them.

 

She had checked to be sure that Angel was in his room before she took Spike downstairs to the kitchen. Angel seemed to know why she was there. "Is he awake?"

 

"I'm going to get him something to eat," Fred replied. "Do you want anything? I could bring it up for you."

 

Cordelia had been the one to get Angel going again after he lost Connor. Fred knew she was a poor substitute.

 

Angel shook his head. His back was to the door, and he didn't bother turning to look at her. "I'll come down in a while."

 

Fred stood uncertainly in the doorway, listening for the sound of water to shut off in Spike's room. "Okay."

 

"Fred." She paused, waiting for him to speak. "Thanks."

 

The way he said it, Fred knew it had taken Angel an effort just to get that much out. "Sure."

 

So now she sat in the big kitchen of the hotel that no one ever used, watching Spike gulp down pigs' blood ravenously. "You musta been hungry," she observed.

 

He looked odd, really, dressed in a pair of Connor's blue jeans and a long-sleeved green t-shirt. Younger and older at the same time. "I forgot to eat," he replied simply.

 

"That's no good," Fred replied, trying to sound stern. "You have to eat, to keep up your strength. I know I go a little crazy whenever I'm real hungry. I was always hungry in Pylea, and I went a little crazy there, you know. Although, that could have been because it was a hell dimension, too. It's hard to say. Were you in a hell dimension?"

 

Spike tipped his head to one side, regarding her with a sort of puzzled bemusement. "Don't think so. It was okay for a while. I was okay." He shrugged. "Then I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Kept getting there too late."

 

"Getting where?"

 

"Saving them."

 

Fred raised her eyebrows, trying to decipher what he meant. "Saving who?"

 

"Them. People. You."

 

"Me?" Fred's fingers strayed to her neck of their own accord. "You arrived just in time."

 

Spike shook his head. "Not then. I—" He froze, clutching his head and whimpering.

 

Fred wasn't quite sure what to do. She reached for him, but he drew back abruptly. "Spike—"

 

"What did he do to you?"

 

She turned to see Angel standing in the doorway, his face like a thundercloud. "Angel, he didn't do anything."

 

"Did he hurt you?" Angel demanded. "What happened?"

 

"We were just talking," Fred said quickly, not knowing why Angel would think that Spike had tried to harm her. "Spike?" She watched as he clutched his head, rocking back and forth.

 

"It's going to kill them," Spike said.

 

Fred watched as Angel's hands clenched into fists. "Who?"

 

"Monster," Spike muttered. "I'm a monster. I'm never on time. They'll cane me for sure this time. Too soon. It's too soon."

 

Spike leapt up, heading for the door, and Fred turned to Angel. "What just happened?"

 

Angel's face was grim—not that that was a huge change. He always looked grim these days. "It's the visions."

 

"The visions?" Fred's eyes widened as the light dawned. "Like Cordelia's?"

 

Angel laughed, but the sound had no humor in it. "It looks like the Powers That Be have decided that my link to them is going to be Spike."

 

Fred shook her head. "But I thought that Cordelia got her visions from someone else when he kissed her. That's what she said."

 

"That's how _she_ got the visions," Angel replied, and Fred noticed that he still had trouble saying Cordelia's name. "Doyle's just started one day." He shook his head and started after Spike, Fred staying on his heels.

 

She wondered what this would do to Angel, if he would regard this as another betrayal by the Powers. He was a Champion, and he'd already given so much, but they were apparently not done with him yet.

 

Spike was already gone by the time they got into the lobby, and Angel grabbed a sword from the weapons cabinet, heading for the back door and the car. After a moment's hesitation, Fred followed.

 

Angel didn't say anything to her when she climbed into the passenger seat of the car. "Do you think we should call Wesley and Faith?"

 

"I can handle it."

 

"Okay." Fred slumped in the seat, hanging onto the door as Angel took a corner just a little too fast. She could see Spike's lean figure loping down the sidewalk in the light of the streetlamps.

 

Angel pulled up next to him. "Spike. Get in."

 

Spike didn't even glance over, and Angel cursed, parking the car next to the curb and growling a warning for Fred to stay in the car. She wasn't sure that she should, even though she didn't think she would be able to do anything if they decided to start fighting.

 

Fred watched anxiously as Angel pulled Spike to a stop with sheer physical force. She couldn't make out what he said, but Spike seemed to listen since he followed Angel back to the car. "Where are we going?"

 

Spike frowned, obviously struggling to make sense of his vision. "Straight, then…" He trailed off.

 

"Tell me when to turn," Angel ordered.

 

Fred felt like an interloper, with the tension between the two of them as thick as the air on a hot Texas day. The history that lay between them was something she didn't fully understand. She wasn't sure she'd ever get a grasp of it. The only thing she seemed capable of these days was watching—she watched Wesley and Faith in their complicated dance of desire and animosity. Watched Connor and Angel try to find some measure of peace. Watched as Gunn and Lorne drifted away from them.

 

She wished she were capable of holding them all together the way Cordy had, but that wasn't her gift. There was no one who loved her as they had loved Cordelia.

 

Fred kept a tight grip on the "oh, shit" handle as Angel took the corners too quickly in response to Spike's last-minute directions. She wondered how Spike knew where to go, if the directions had been left in his scattered brain, or if he knew Los Angeles well enough to know where they were supposed to be going.

 

"There," he finally said, pointing at an old, run-down store. "The bleeding has already started."

 

Angel had barely stopped the car when Spike leaped out, and Angel gave Fred a hard look. "Stay here."

 

Fred knew better than to argue when Angel looked at her like that, and so she stayed put and watched them disappear into the building. It wasn't the safest part of town, so she stayed alert, clutching her crossbow and keeping an eye out for trouble.

 

There seemed something vaguely wrong with letting Spike and Angel go in by themselves, and together. Angel and Wesley were always talking about having backup, and Fred wondered if they were mainly just talking about other people.

 

Or maybe they were just talking about her.

 

What was she doing here? They didn't need her, not really. There was nothing keeping her here, no emergency other than the usual day-to-day demon hunting. Fred leaned her forehead on her arm, considering her options. She couldn't go back home, not really. Her parents had rented out her room, and it wasn't hers anymore. She didn't have much in the way of savings. Possibly, if she found a physics program, they might take her, but it wouldn't be at UCLA, not where Professor Seidell had taught.

 

She couldn't go back there; too many memories.

 

Fred remembered the look on Wesley's face when he'd dropped her off, remembered how it had felt to sit in his living room as he went over her options. She hadn't loved him, but she could have. Their friendship was dead, the possibility of anything more gone.

 

There was nothing for her here.

 

"Fred."

 

Angel's voice called her out of her thoughts, and she looked up. "Yeah?" Fred hoped that no sign of her melancholy thoughts showed on her face.

 

"Do you think you could look after Spike?"

 

Fred looked past her boss to Spike. He appeared to be a little more lucid, but there was a lostness in his eyes that Fred knew well. She knew all about getting lost in the dark.

 

"Sure," she replied, striving for cheerfulness. "I don't mind."

 

Angel nodded shortly. "If he has another vision, you're to find me or one of the others. Don't go off on your own." He turned to look at Spike. "Got it?"

 

"Not deaf," Spike muttered, sounding like a sullen boy. "Don't need anyone looking out for me."

 

"Fine. Then make sure nothing happens to Fred. Can you manage that?"

 

Spike glanced up, meeting Fred's eyes, and she thought he was measuring her carefully. "I can manage."

 

"Fine. As long as you stay out of my way."

 

Fred was a little taken aback by Angel's harsh tones, and she gave Spike a questioning look, thinking that he might have done something to anger the other vampire. Spike just quirked an eyebrow, giving her a faint half smile in reply. "Don't want to see your ugly mug more 'n I have to anyway."

 

Spike climbed into the back seat of the convertible, and Fred looked back over her shoulder surreptitiously. Now that no one was looking at him, Spike's eyes were closed and his head was resting on the back of the seat. Weariness had etched lines on his face, and Fred's brow furrowed.

 

Maybe, just maybe, there was something left for her here.


	2. Chapter 2

Wesley watched as Faith pulled her pants on, wriggling a bit to get the tight denim up over her hips. The first time they had come back to his apartment, it had been near dawn when they had finished their shagging, and he had suggested that she stay.

 

Faith had just smirked at him, stating, "First rule is I don't stay the night. It gives the guy the wrong idea."

 

Wesley hadn't suggested she stay since.

 

He sometimes wondered why Faith continued to come to him, whether it was just because he was the one closest to hand who could scratch her itch or if there were another reason altogether. It wasn't a question he was prepared to ask.

 

What they had was sex—hard, sweaty, intense sex. There didn't need to be anything else.

 

Faith pulled her t-shirt over her head, tugging it into place. "What do you think Spike was doing at the warehouse tonight?"

 

Wesley's eyebrows went up at her question. In general, they didn't do small talk. "I have no idea." He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Now that you mention it, though, it does seem rather odd that he showed up just in the nick of time."

 

Shoving her feet into her heavy combat boots, Faith grunted. "Yeah. We're not all that easy to find once we're on the move. I wonder if he had inside information."

 

Wesley considered her observation, his curiosity piqued. "That's a good point."

 

Faith smirked at him. "I guess you'll be getting out the books now."

 

"Perhaps after I've had a few hours of sleep." He lay back down. "It will keep for that long."

 

"Time for me to find my own bed," Faith replied. "I'll see you later."

 

Wesley waited until she was gone before rising and pulling on a pair of jeans. He locked the door and turned to his bookshelves. He knew that he wouldn't sleep now, not when his mind was worrying over the problem that Spike had presented.

 

Angel had seemed certain that the other vampire had a soul, which seemed odd. The last Wesley had heard Spike was in Sunnydale, helping the Slayer, and incapable of harming humans. He wondered what Spike would have done to get himself cursed, and found it difficult to believe that Willow would have done it. More likely, if Spike had killed someone, the Slayer would simply have staked him.

 

Wesley closed his eyes against the sudden reminder of Lilah. He'd wanted to protect her. Snorting at his tendency, even now, to whitewash things, Wesley mentally corrected himself. He'd wanted to save her. That was the truth.

 

Remembering Lilah's murder, as well as Cordelia's betrayal and subsequent death, was a little like poking a sore to see how much it had healed. None of them wanted to remember, wanted to spend the time ruminating on what they might have done differently. How they could have changed things.

 

Perhaps if Wesley had figured out sooner that Cordelia was possessed by something, or if he hadn't convinced Angel that they needed to bring Angelus back to defeat the beast. Or, maybe going back even further, if Wesley had never betrayed Angel, if he'd only been smart enough to recognize the prophecy as a fake, or if he'd taken his concerns to the others.

 

If only he'd been faster, and Holtz had never gotten the child…

 

Wesley put his head in his hands, too caught in the tangled web of memory and emotion to pull himself out again. Sometimes, at his most optimistic, Wesley could allow himself to believe that there had been nothing he could do to save either Connor or Cordelia, that things had happened as they were meant to.

 

After all, the thing that had possessed Cordelia had been planning its emergence for centuries, if not millennia.

 

On the other hand, to accept such an idea about fate or destiny would mean to accept that they had no control of the future, and Wesley didn't much like that option either.

 

Those first horrible days after Cordelia had been killed were still fresh in his mind. Angel had come back from his mission without Connor or Cordelia, had gone upstairs to his room and hadn't come out. It had been up to Wesley and Faith to keep the business up and running, leaving Fred to man the hotel phones and help with research.

 

After three days, Connor had appeared, and he'd gone up to speak to Angel. Things had changed after that. Angel had at least appeared more interested in the business.

 

As far as keeping Angel Investigations in the black, Wesley knew that they were doing better now than ever before.

 

But there was no life in the old hotel these days. No sense of camaraderie. No joy.

 

Wesley had a hundred regrets. He wished that he'd had a chance to say goodbye to Cordelia, that he'd been able to tell her—something. He knew he wouldn't have, of course, but he wished they'd been able to part on good terms.

 

The only thing he had no regrets about were his recent actions regarding Faith. He'd been right to get her out of prison, right to contact Giles and convince him that she would do no one any good at all in a jail cell. With the Council's help, they had faked her death. No one looked for a dead girl, and as long as she kept her nose clean, Faith would be able to fly under the government's radar.

 

Of course, in their line of work, they often inhabited a netherworld where no one officially existed.

 

Wesley knew that he'd used her. He had known quite well that there was every chance that Faith would not survive her encounter with Angelus, and that his best hope was either that she took him out with her, or that Faith's death would be enough of a distraction that one of them would manage to take Angelus down.

 

He had known that lacing Faith's blood with Orpheus was their best shot at incapacitating Angelus and that she probably wouldn't come back from it.

 

Wesley had known all of this, and he'd used the Slayer ruthlessly—for the greater good.

 

Then again, he knew quite well that Faith was using him now, so he supposed they were even.

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Wesley considered going back to bed for a while. He did need the sleep, especially since they had another job to take care of tonight. Perhaps a shower first, to wash some of the sweat and grime off, and possibly relax him a bit.

 

There were times when Wesley wondered if he would ever have a relationship with a woman that involved something more than sex. Not that he didn't enjoy what he had with Faith, but he'd hoped for more.

 

He'd wanted more with Fred.

 

Fred had chosen Gunn, however, and the possibility of making something work with her seemed to have died. It was obvious enough that she didn't have the same kind of feeling for him that he did for her. Besides, Fred deserved better, and if he was honest with himself, Wesley could admit that she wasn't quite what he wanted. Not anymore.

 

There was a well of darkness within him that Wesley had never wanted anyone to see, but that had been revealed when he'd been infected with Billy's blood.

 

Was that when things had changed? Wesley couldn't figure out when he had become something—someone—that he despised. These days, he could live with himself, but not comfortably.

 

Wesley had learned that doing the right thing, or what one thought was the right thing, was rarely comfortable.

 

~~~~~

 

He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find when he returned to the Hyperion, but the sight in front of him was a bit surprising. Spike was leaning against the front desk, watching Fred as she used the computer. The vampire seemed a bit more coherent than he had the previous night, although Wesley couldn't say he'd been paying all that much attention. He and Faith had taken off immediately.

 

Faith always needed to work off her energy after a good fight.

 

Fred was the first to see him enter, and she gave him a hesitant smile. "Hey, Wesley."

 

"Fred. How are you?" Wesley replied. Things still felt strained between them, and he wasn't sure they would ever get back to the easy friendship that had existed before his betrayal.

 

She seemed to approve of his attempt at civility because her smile grew brighter. "Good. Spike's got Cordelia's visions."

 

Wesley blinked at that non sequitur, glancing over at the vampire, who didn't bother looking at him. "Is that right?" His mind started racing. If Spike were getting visions sent by the Powers That Be, it would explain him showing up the night before. "When did that start?"

 

"Hell if I know," Spike replied, sounding surly.

 

"Are they painful?" Wesley asked, wondering how like Cordelia's visions they really were and trying to determine if they were truly the same thing. Cordy had received hers from Doyle before he died, but that wouldn't be the case here. What he didn't know was how or why Doyle had the visions, which meant that Cordelia receiving them could have been the anomaly.

 

Or perhaps the thing that had used Cordelia's body had simply taken its opportunity when Cordy got the visions, or when they started killing her. Or before. How far back did the workings of destiny go, and what could have it in mind to use Spike now?

 

"Headaches are worse than the bloody chip," Spike muttered. "They don't last as long, though. It’s just a bit difficult to tell one from the other."

 

Wesley didn't quite follow Spike's statement. Fred must have caught his confusion, because she said, "Spike means it's hard for him to tell the visions from his memories. He thought that they were just flashbacks for a while."

 

That made sense to Wesley. He could see where the soul would make things difficult, and something sparked in his memory. It had been after Cordelia slipped into a coma for a time and then had emerged part demon. She had told him later about her vision of the future.

 

In the alternate future, Angel had been the one with the visions, and they had driven him mad. It seemed that Spike was doing a little better, but there was still a possibility that his mind wouldn't survive the onslaught. "How did you get your soul?" Wesley asked. "I wouldn't think that anyone in Sunnydale would use the curse just to—"

 

Spike snarled at him, his eyes flashing in anger, although Wesley saw no hint of the demon. "Didn't curse me. I asked for this. The soul's mine."

 

Spike stalked off, heading back towards the kitchen, and Wesley looked at Fred, wondering if she knew why Spike had reacted so badly to the question. "I already asked how he got the soul," Fred said. "He doesn't want to talk about it."

 

"Apparently," Wesley said dryly. "Has he said anything about how he got the soul?"

 

"Spike said he was in Africa for a while," Fred replied helpfully. "He didn't want to say much more than that." She lowered her voice. "Do you know what's up between him and Angel? Angel went with us last night after Spike had a vision, but he seemed kinda mad when we left."

 

Wesley shrugged. "I do know that the last time Spike was in Los Angeles he had Angel tortured over the Gem of Amara. I suppose that might cause someone to be rather angry."

 

His eyes met Fred's, and a spark of something moved between them. Wesley realized that they'd just managed their first civilized conversation since he'd helped Fred prepare to kill her old professor. It felt pretty damn good.

 

Fred pulled her feet up to rest on the edge of the chair, thin arms hugging her knees to her chest. "Angel asked me to watch out for him," she confided. "I don't think Angel wants to be bothered."

 

Wesley leaned back against the front desk. "No, I imagine not. Angel doesn't want much that would distract him from Connor."

 

"Have you seen Connor?" Fred asked. "He just took off last night, and he hasn't been back since."

 

Wesley shook his head. "Who knows what goes through his head?"

 

He could see Fred's eyes focus on something past his shoulder, and Wesley turned to see Faith saunter in. "What's the sitch?"

 

"We're discussing Connor's whereabouts," Wesley replied. "And Spike's soul."

 

"What's the deal with that, anyway?" Faith asked. "I thought Angel was the only vampire with a soul."

 

"He was," Wesley replied. "It appears that isn't the case any longer."

 

"Where is the souled wonder?" Faith swung herself up on the desk to sit next to Wesley. He could feel her heat, smell soap and shampoo.

 

He wondered what it meant that he suddenly wanted her with an intensity that surprised him.

 

"Getting something to eat, Slayer," Spike said, coming out of the kitchen. He was still dressed in some of Connor's old things, and Wesley thought he looked much younger than Angel ever had.

 

Except for the eyes. Spike's eyes were ancient.

 

"So what's this I hear about the soul?" Faith asked bluntly. "Is this some sort of new sickness among vampires?"

 

There was apparently something about Faith's blunt manner of asking that Spike found difficult to take offense to; at least, he took less umbrage to her question than he had with Wesley's. "I asked for it."

 

Wesley had a hard time believing it, but he kept his mouth shut. Faith wasn't so diplomatic. "Get out of here! Why the hell would you do something like that?"

 

A wry smile twisted Spike's lips, and his eyes lost their blankness. "Got it for a girl. Isn't that the way it always works?"

 

Faith raised an eyebrow. "How's that working out for you?"

 

"Depends on when you ask the question."

 

The brief moment of camaraderie was broken by Angel's entrance. "What time are we leaving, Wesley?"

 

Wesley shared a look with Faith. "We can leave as soon as the sun goes down. Unless you want to stay here. I believe Faith and I will be able to handle it on our own."

 

"Why would I want to stay behind?" Angel asked.

 

"The visions?" Wesley suggested. "If Spike—"

 

"That means nothing to me." Angel cut him off. "I'm not the whipping boy for the Powers That Be any longer."

 

Angel stalked out of the room, back towards the kitchen. "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," Faith muttered so that only Wesley and Spike could hear her.

 

Wesley's lips twitched. Spike didn't move. He was staring into his empty mug, his expression carefully blank. Fred was watching her computer screen intently. "Perhaps if Connor comes back before we leave," Wesley murmured. "Either that, or Fred could take Spike to see Lorne." Somehow he didn't like the idea of Fred being alone with a potentially insane vampire. Even though he suspected that Spike wouldn't harm Fred if he were in control of himself, that didn't mean he would remain in control.

 

Spike and Angel should probably be kept apart as much as possible.

 

"That might not be a bad idea," Fred said, perking up a bit. "I'll bet you'll like Lorne's place, Spike. He just got it all fixed up, and it's really nice. We haven't gotten many chances to go, what with everything, but…" She trailed off.

 

Wesley watched with interest as Spike summoned up a smile for her. "Yeah. Whatever you like. You shouldn't be stuck here on my account."

 

"Oh, I don't mind," Fred assured him.

 

Wesley stiffened as he felt Faith's hand brush against his backside, and not subtly either. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, but she just smirked.

 

The front door of the hotel crashed open, and Wesley turned to see Connor enter, looking as sullen and out of sorts as his father. It really was amazing how much alike they were at times. The young man didn't even glance in their direction, instead going straight for the stairs and heading up.

 

Angel came out of the kitchen a moment later. "Was that Connor?"

 

"He went upstairs," Wesley replied.

 

Angel didn't say anything in reply, turning to follow his son.

 

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Wesley couldn't help but remember the days when Angel would have stopped to chat with them. They would have drunk some of Cordelia's terrible coffee and talked over the events of the day, or evening.

 

Angel didn't talk to much of anyone these days, and while he seemed to be okay with Wesley's presence, they weren't friends. In all honesty, Wesley didn't think he'd ever be friends with Angel again, not after the vampire had tried to kill him.

 

Not that Wesley blamed him for that, but he couldn't trust Angel, not like he had in the past.

 

"What do you say we dump the party pooper and take care of this little problem on our own?" Faith suggested, although the light in her eyes suggested that she had an ulterior motive. It would be easier to slip away if Angel wasn't present once the job was over.

 

Wesley didn't see a problem with that. "Let's go. The sooner we get it taken care of, the sooner we get paid."

 

He thought about warning Fred to be careful, or telling her that she could call his cell phone if she needed him, but he didn't. Angel would be around, as would Connor, if Spike got out of hand, and they weren't that close anymore.

 

Wesley still cared, but he had distanced himself from the feeling—from any feeling. It was easier that way. It was simpler not to worry about his co-workers, to treat them as business associates. Perhaps that was how it should always have been, and he had been foolish to think that they could be a family.

 

For a time, at least, he'd had that closeness, but it was gone now, reduced to fleeting moments of intimacy that went only skin-deep.

 

It was the best he could hope for.


	3. Chapter 3

Connor could sense Angel behind him. He always knew when the vampire was near. It was weird to think of Angel as his father, but there was a part of him that knew it was true. That knew Angel was all he had.

 

"So where were you last night?"

 

It didn't mean that Connor appreciated Angel checking up on him all the time.

 

"Just out."

 

"Oh. Okay. Did you run into any trouble?"

 

Connor knew that Angel was trying to come across as caring, that he wasn't trying to push. They were still feeling each other out. Angel was largely a stranger to him, even after months of living in the same hotel. There was a part of him that understood that the vampire was striving for a balance that would be difficult under the best of circumstances, and these weren't the best of circumstances.

 

"No." Connor turned slightly, hoping that if Angel saw that he was okay and in one piece, he'd go somewhere else. He wasn't in the mood for talking. "I'm fine."

 

"Good." Angel shifted awkwardly, and Connor could see the longing in his eyes. "I'm glad you came home. Are you going out again tonight, or…"

 

"I thought I'd get some sleep," Connor replied carefully. "I'm pretty tired."

 

"Yeah, sure you are," Angel said. "I, uh, I have to go out with Faith and Wes, but maybe if you're up when I get back, we could do something together."

 

"Maybe," Connor said noncommittally. "If I'm not busy."

 

"Sure, okay." Angel stayed in the doorway a moment longer, and then left. Connor could hear the slow beat of his footsteps, and he knew that his father's feet were all but dragging.

 

Connor honestly didn't know how he felt about Angel. It had been mixed up— _he_ had been mixed up—for so long, that he didn't know of any way to get things straight in his head.

 

Everyone had lied to him. Holtz had told him that Angel was a monster, but that hadn't been completely true. Connor had seen for himself that there was a difference between Angel and Angelus, and that Holtz had probably seen the same thing he had.

 

Angel had lied to him, had gone to see Holtz without telling him. Cordelia had lied—had, in fact, not been Cordelia at all. She'd nearly managed to turn him into a murderer.

 

The knife had been in his hand. Connor had been ready to cut the girl's throat, in spite of his dead mother's pleas, but something had stayed his hand in that last moment. She'd been so innocent, so young. Connor had remembered Holtz talking about his dead wife and children, speaking of them with tenderness. His words had rung in Connor's ears.

 

_"They were innocent, and Angelus killed them."_

 

He'd cut the ropes around the girl's wrists and left then, resolutely closing his ears to Cordelia's imprecations. Connor had seen her home, unable to take in her gratitude. He had mumbled an apology and left her at her door.

 

When he'd returned to the hotel, Cordelia and the child she'd carried were dead by Angel's hand.

 

His child.

 

Connor knew, some part of him recognized, that whatever had been growing in Cordelia had not been natural. He was reminded of asking her why the Beast would rise in the spot where he'd been born, asking her if there was something wrong with him. Cordelia had told him that there wasn't anything evil in him, but Connor wasn't so certain. Cordelia, after all, had been possessed by something herself.

 

He was named the Destroyer. Perhaps that was really what he was.

 

"Connor?"

 

He turned to see Fred in the doorway. They'd been close that summer, when Angel was stuck at the bottom of the ocean. She had mothered him, and then she'd shot him with a Taser. Connor had felt betrayed at the time, but looking back he couldn't really blame her. He'd hurt her, and betrayed her trust.

 

Connor wondered if she would ever forgive him, if Fred would ever look at him like she had then—like he was family, like she cared.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I'm sorry, but I had to borrow some of your clothes for Spike," she began. "His were pretty much shot, and there isn't anybody else around here his size. I hope you don't mind too much. Once we can find some other things for him, I'm sure—"

 

"It's okay," he said, cutting her off. "I can get more if I need to."

 

"Oh, okay," Fred replied, still lingering in the doorway.

 

Connor hesitated, then asked, "Is there something else?"

 

"Do you want to come with us tonight?" Fred asked. "You don't have to, if you don't want to, but we're going to Lorne's. Angel doesn't want to be anywhere near Spike, you know, but if he gets one of those visions, I don't know what I'll do. He gets kinda crazy right after because he doesn't know where he's at, and it might be handy to have someone else there, but you don't have to come. It's up to you. In fact, just forget I asked, okay? I'll bet—"

 

"I'll come." The words were out of his mouth before Connor had time to think about what he was agreeing to. Mostly it just had to do with the fact that Angel hated Spike. Connor wanted to know why, and if Angel didn't want to be near Spike, that meant that Connor wouldn't have to deal with him for an evening.

 

Really, Connor didn't know how to feel about Angel—the vampire he'd been taught to hate, the warrior he'd come to admire, the Champion who had killed Connor’s child and the woman he had loved. It was too complicated.

 

~~~~~

 

Connor still wasn't a big fan of Caritas. The concentration of demons made him edgy, but he knew about the sanctuary spells, and so he wasn't looking to start a fight with anyone. Instead, he kept a careful eye on Fred and Spike as the woman led the both of them to an empty table.

 

"What is this place?" Spike asked, looking mildly curious.

 

"It's Caritas," Fred replied. "Lorne's bar. He re-opened recently. The last one got blown up by Holtz, and then he went to Las Vegas for a while, but he's back now. He gets kind of antsy when all of us visit, but since it's me, it'll be okay."

 

Connor saw Lorne weaving through the crowd. "Well, well, what a nice surprise. It's good to see you again, Fredikins."

 

"Hey, Lorne." Fred stood to give him a quick hug. "This is Spike."

 

Lorne raised his eyebrows. "I see. You look like you could use a drink. Or three."

 

"Make that a round dozen, and you might be a little closer to the truth," Spike said.

 

Lorne waved to one of his waiters. "George will take care of you guys. He's one of my best. I've got some readings to do tonight."

 

"What about Spike?" Fred asked. "Shouldn't he sing?"

 

"Sing?" Spike asked with alarm.

 

Lorne just shook his head. "I don't think singing would do anyone any good, although I'm betting he has a better voice than Angel." He gave Spike a sympathetic smile. "You're radiating pain like a great big neon sign, but stick close to Fred here, and you might pull through."

 

Spike appeared a little surprised, but no more so than Connor when Lorne turned to look at him. "But if you want to sing, feel free, cupcake. You might need the direction."

 

Connor shrugged. "Maybe."

 

Lorne just nodded, walking off into the crowd, and Connor slumped down into his chair. Maybe he could use some direction, but he wasn't sure he wanted to take it from a demon.

 

Then again, what was he? If the Beast had come from him, if the child he'd fathered was truly a demon…

 

"You should sing, Connor," Fred encouraged him. "I'll bet Lorne could help."

 

Connor wouldn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, I'll think about it."

 

"What's this about singing?" Spike asked. Connor noticed that he'd relaxed back into his chair, and the boy thought it probably had something to do with the fact that no one was pressuring him to sing anymore.

 

"Lorne's an anagogic demon," Fred explained earnestly. "When you sing, he reads your destiny."

 

"Don't have a bloody destiny," Spike muttered.

 

"What's with you and my dad?" Connor asked abruptly. Maybe if he could get them on a different subject, they could skip the singing altogether. That way, he wouldn't have to decide whether or not he wanted his future told.

 

Spike shifted in his seat. "Nothing much to tell. He hates my guts, I hate his, end of the story."

 

"What did he say to you last night?" Fred asked. "After you guys killed that demon? He seemed pretty mad."

 

Connor noticed the muscle in Spike's jaw ticking, and he found himself interested. Everyone else was always telling him how wonderful Angel was, and how much he had suffered. Here was someone who didn't seem to buy that story.

 

"Angel didn't like what I had to say about the soul, and he doesn't believe that it's mine to keep," Spike replied, his voice tight. "Mostly, it's because he can't believe he'd ever willingly get a soul, and he thinks he knows me."

 

Connor leaned forward. "I don't get it. Why would he think he knows you?"

 

"He made Drusilla a vampire, and Drusilla made me," Spike replied. "You can argue that we're related in some sense, although I imagine the both of us would rather deny it."

 

Connor frowned as he tried to work that out. If that were the case, then he and Spike would probably be related somehow. In fact, there could be a hundred vampires out there that he had some connection to. His face twisted in an involuntary grimace.

 

He'd been fooling himself. There was nothing clean in him.

 

"Hey." Connor glanced up to meet Spike's blue eyes. "It's alright. You don't have to claim the relationship if you don't want." He smiled ruefully. "Not many do."

 

Connor just shook his head. He found it impossible to explain. He wasn't used to voicing his thoughts. That's not what Holtz had taught him. He was trapped in this world with all its complications and lies, where he didn't know up from down, right from wrong, good from evil.

 

He knew what everyone said about Quortoth, knew that it was a hell dimension, and that this place was supposed to be better, but he missed it. He missed the clarity of the hunt.

 

"I'm related to vampires."

 

Spike tipped his head. "Yeah, but what's that got to do with anything?"

 

Connor shook his head, struggling to form the words. "I'm not human."

 

He could hear Spike draw in a breath, and Connor wondered at the humanity of it. Seeing Spike dressed in his clothing, waiting for a drink, was more human than anything Angel had done with him. Spike appeared more human than Angel ever did.

 

Of course, so did Connor. Maybe that just meant he was one more liar among millions.

 

"Slayer's not human either, not entirely," Spike said. "Angel told you about her?"

 

Connor nodded. "It's what Faith is, but she's human."

 

"Not quite," Spike replied. "Near enough to make no difference, but not quite. Girl can't do what the Slayer does and be completely human. You're the same."

 

Connor thought about that. Being like a Slayer wouldn't be so bad. He took a sip of the soda the waiter had brought around. He knew that Faith had hurt some people. He'd been around when Wesley and some others had set up an accident to make it appear that she'd died so the cops wouldn't come after her.

 

If he was like a Slayer, that meant he wasn't a monster. Maybe. If that's what being a monster meant. Connor wasn't sure these days.

 

He wasn't sure about anything.

 

A grunt of pain had him looking over at Spike, who had a death grip on the table. Fred had her arm around his shoulders, trying to support him through the vision that had him in its grip. The vampire was muttering something about monsters and canings. Connor couldn't understand what he meant. "Fred?"

 

"He's having a vision," she said. "You never saw Cordelia before they made her part demon. The visions used to hurt her." She frowned. "I don't know why they hurt Spike."

 

Connor watched as Spike gripped the table so hard it started to crack, and then Lorne was standing behind him. "Hey, kid, you want to make sure Sweetcheeks there doesn't do a number on my furniture?"

 

Connor didn't know why he cared to help, but he grabbed Spike's wrist, pulled him away from the table to prevent the vampire from doing more damage. Spike's head suddenly snapped up, and he fixed Connor with a stare. "Got to save them."

 

"Okay," Connor readily agreed. "Where?"

 

Spike didn't reply. He rose and headed out of the crowded club. Connor paused, torn. He knew that he and Spike could move faster without Fred along, especially considering that they'd taken a taxi to the club.

 

"I'll get a cab home," Fred told him. "Just make sure Spike stays in one piece. Whether Angel wants to admit it or not, Spike's our link to the Powers."

 

Connor nodded, following Spike's trail out of the club. The vampire had already disappeared, oblivious in his pursuit of the demons in his vision, but Connor followed his scent easily enough. He caught up, although he didn't say anything to distract the vampire from his hunt.

 

The two of them moved swiftly, without making a sound, twin shadows on the dimly lit streets. At one point, Spike took to the rooftops, and Connor followed without breaking stride. He felt himself moving into the rhythm of the hunt effortlessly. This was easy. This was where confusion didn't exist.

 

There was the hunter and the hunted, and no shades of gray.

 

Connor stood next to Spike on the edge of the roof, looking down on the demon that had a young woman by the arm. It appeared as though the demon had already started gnawing on her. He glanced over, catching Spike's eye. They didn't need to speak. In the next moment, they had jumped from the roof, descending like twin lightning bolts.

 

This was what he'd been born to do. Connor only wished it was this simple all the time.


	4. Chapter 4

Faith jerked back at the sting of the alcohol. "Hold still," Wesley ordered, taking her arm in a firmer grip. His hands were gentle, though, as he cleaned out the deep laceration, and Faith found herself watching him intently.

 

If anyone had told her a year ago that she'd be out of prison, hunting demons with her tight-ass of a former Watcher, and fucking him nearly every night, she would have been laughing hysterically. If anyone had told her that he was actually pretty good in the sack, she would have called in the men with the nets.

 

On the other hand, if Wesley hadn't been any good, it would have been over after that first time most likely. As it was, he'd been the nearest warm body after an intense fight. In a way, Faith was attracted to Angel, but she had no desire to repeat Buffy's mistake. Besides, she always got something of the older brother vibe from him that didn't lend itself as well to lust. And even though she'd noticed the occasional looks Connor gave her, he was just a kid. Faith didn't screw around with kids. Too many bad memories there.

 

The Watcher had surprised her, though, and then he'd asked her to stay.

 

Faith would never admit it out loud, but she'd almost done it. It had been close enough to dawn for her to justify it, if she'd wanted to, and a piece of her _had_ wanted to. At the same time, she'd meant what she said. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea. It was never supposed to be more than a one-night stand.

 

When he'd turned out to be a nice ride, and he was around the next time she wanted to work off some tension, then…

 

So they'd turned into slay buddies with a side of sex, and Faith couldn't say she was terribly disappointed with the situation. Oddly enough, it was probably the most stable, and the longest lasting, relationship she'd ever had.

 

Faith felt the heat building in her womb as Wesley carefully wiped away the last of the blood, laying a gauze pad over the wound and taping it down firmly. "How does it feel?"

 

"Good as new," she said, flexing her arm to test the range of motion. It was a deep cut, and it hurt, but she knew from experience that it would be healed in a couple of days.

 

Faith didn't bother with the niceties. She pulled his head down, bringing Wesley in for a bruising kiss, surprising herself when she began to gentle it. It was probably just a reaction to his hands—fixing her up, taking care of her.

 

Not that Faith needed taking care of. She was a big girl; she could handle herself.

 

Wesley didn't resist. He returned the pressure, following her lead. His hands began to push up the thin material of her tight tank top, and Faith smiled inwardly, knowing what was coming. She loved the release and the rush that sex brought, and since Wesley was a regular, he knew all the right buttons to push.

 

Clothing was shifted, hands fumbling at hems and buttons and belts. Faith could feel the hard warmth of him, and she could smell the scent that was uniquely Wesley. If she'd paused to think about it, the fact that she could recognize his smell would have bothered her, but right then Faith wasn't thinking about much of anything.

 

Faith was in the driver's seat, setting the pace—hard and fast. Wesley's callused palms came up to drift across her bared stomach, her cloth-covered breasts, in a touch so light it couldn't be called anything but tender. She met his eyes, could see the emotion that neither of them dared admit existed in their world. It was something soft, something real.

 

Something lasting.

 

Faith couldn't bear to see it, so she bent her head again to taste him, to press her lips and tongue to sweaty skin. She tasted the salt, and when their lips met, could taste the truth.

 

Almost in spite of herself, she felt her pace slow, dragging out the climax for both of them. And when he tumbled over the edge, she followed, not quite realizing exactly what had changed, only knowing that something had.

 

~~~~~

 

It was the rising sun that woke Faith, the light filtering through Wesley's window, the air warming. She disentangled herself from his arms and legs, walking over to the curtain and pushing it aside to look out.

 

She never got tired of doing that—of seeing the sun rising in all its glory. A couple of years behind bars tended to instill a love of the outdoors, although Faith had never liked to be cooped up. Not that she was suddenly nature-girl, but she would often go up to the roof of the hotel just to feel the open sky above her.

 

Faith wasn't sure that anyone realized that it wasn't prison that had changed her. The transformation—if you wanted to call it that—had begun before that, when Angel had had mercy on her.

 

No, before that. When she'd taken a walk inside Buffy's skin and found out that there were other ways of being. She had never before understood that doing the right thing could be its own reward. Faith had wanted what Buffy had, wanted what seemed to come so easily to her, the friends and family and loving boyfriend, which she hadn't believed possible to get for herself.

 

But then she'd hit rock bottom, and she'd had no choice but to try.

 

There had been shrinks in prison, all of them wanting to know about her past and her mother, as if knowing was going to make a difference. Faith had cooperated, because it was easier to go with the flow. They'd told her she was "acting out," that she needed to find other ways of expressing her anger, that she had impulse-control issues.

 

Faith wanted to tell them that impulse control was the least of her concerns in the life she'd come from, but that's not what they'd wanted to hear. She told them that she knew that what she'd done was wrong, that she felt sorry, and all of it was true, but they didn't understand.

 

No one really understood. No one ever really had.

 

She would have stayed, though, if Wesley hadn't come, telling her that Angel needed help. Faith would have done her time, even knowing that she could leave any time she wanted.

 

Faith really didn't harbor any anger towards Wesley for what he'd done. Yeah, he'd used her, but that was the way it worked, and she'd let herself be used. A Slayer had a better chance of incapacitating Angel and surviving than anyone else. She had wanted to save Angel, and she had. Wesley's guilt—and she knew he felt it—was misplaced.

 

Besides, wasn't that what Watchers did? They used their Slayers to save the world. Faith couldn't really disagree with that, not when she wanted the world saved.

 

Tough luck that she was the one putting her life on the line, but that's how the chips fell. Besides, she had probably owed Wes for the torture thing.

 

"Good morning."

 

His soft voice coming from behind her caused Faith to turn quickly, startled. She'd been so deep in her own thoughts, she hadn't even noticed he was awake. "Morning."

 

She stared at him, waiting to hear what he would say. Wesley was looking at her helplessly, as though he didn't know what to say next. "Do you, uh, want to shower?"

 

Faith glanced down at her disordered clothing. "I don't have any clean stuff here."

 

"I could put it in the washer for you," he offered. "It wouldn't take very long, and I have a robe."

 

He was so polite that it made her uncomfortable, as though she was a stranger he was asking to tea. Maybe they were strangers. "I don't—" She stopped. "Sure. That'd be nice."

 

Faith waited until she was in his bathroom to strip down, dropping her clothing outside the door. She stood under the hot spray, letting the water sluice off the last of the blood, the sweat, and the smell of sex. Wesley had fixed his shower since the last time she was there, and Faith idly wondered what it would be like to have him in there with her.

 

The thought of it made her horny all over again, and Faith wondered what was happening to her.

 

She finished her shower quickly, suppressing all thoughts of Wesley and what they might do, and what she felt about that possibility. Wrapping herself in his robe, she padded out to the kitchen on bare feet.

 

It was strange—the whole situation. Having fallen asleep—feeling safe enough to fall asleep, wearing Wesley's robe, watching him in his kitchen making a pot of coffee. This was what lovers did, what a real couple might do.

 

"This doesn't change anything," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "You know that, right?"

 

Wesley turned slowly, and Faith wondered if it was only her imagination or if her fear really was reflected in his eyes. "What would it have changed?"

 

"I don't know." She shook her head impatiently, hardly knowing what to say in response. _She_ had no idea what exactly had shifted; she only knew that something had. "We're not dating. This isn't a relationship."

 

"I see."

 

Wesley's tone was carefully modulated, polite, cold—and Faith hated that. She hated that he was so much in control when she so often felt like she was barely hanging on. "Don't pull that Watcher shit on me!" Faith snapped.

 

He turned his back on her. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Faith. I'm not sure what you want me to say."

 

That was the problem. Faith didn't know what she wanted him to say either. "Then stop patronizing me and tell me what you're thinking."

 

"Faith—"

 

"Or tell me to get out," she said, pushing harder. "Tell me what the hell is going on in that oversized brain of yours. You're so fucking cold all the time. Do you ever let go of that stupid uptight shit?"

 

Wesley whirled, his eyes blazing. "Stop pushing me, Faith."

 

"Or what?" Faith could smell a fight, and she was aching for it. It would restore the balance. They could fight and ignore each other for a while, and then go back to where they had been before.

 

"Or maybe you won't like what you see," he warned her. "Do you think you're the first woman I've shared a bed with, Faith? You aren't. Just because you fell asleep on the floor doesn't suddenly make you my girlfriend. You think I want to tie you down somehow? Have you ever thought that perhaps I don't want the ties a relationship presents?"

 

Something clicked. "What happened to the last one, Wesley?"

 

"I had to dismember her body to prevent her from rising as a vampire."

 

Faith blinked, feeling the tension leech out of her. The crazy thing was that she knew exactly where Wesley was coming from. The shrinks had talked to her about the tendency to use "shock tactics" as a shield to prevent anyone from getting close. Wesley used something else, but the results were the same. It still pissed her off, but she couldn't exactly fault him for it.

 

"Yeah. Well." She still wasn't sure what to say to his admission.

 

"If you want to end this…" It was an open-ended offer, and it was strange hearing it come through Wesley's lips. Normally, Faith was long gone by now. She'd never stuck around to hear that kind of speech before.

 

"No," Faith said. "I mean, what we've got—it's good. I just, you know. I'm not interested in the long-term commitment. It never works out for me."

 

"Nor for me," Wesley replied, his tone almost conciliatory.

 

She nodded, feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. There was a very small part of her that wished he'd made a demand, given her an ultimatum—even expressed a desire for something a little more. Not that she would have agreed to it, of course, but that same small part of her wondered what it would be like.

 

To have what Buffy had had. To hear a guy say that he loved you after he'd slept with you and not just beforehand.

 

Girls like her, though—they didn't get guys like that.

 

"Do you want some coffee?" Wesley asked.

 

She nodded. "Sure."

 

He poured her a cup, handing it to her. Faith froze as Wesley's hand came up, made an aborted motion towards her cheek, and came to rest on her arm where she'd been injured the night before. "How is your arm this morning?"

 

"Fine." That answer felt abrupt, and she added, "Better. You know. Slayers heal fast."

 

Wesley nodded, and Faith could see some unfathomable emotion in his eyes. "Good. I don't want to see you hurt." He smiled slightly. "I think I'm going to shower. I'll be out soon."

 

Faith watched him go, and she could still feel the spot where his lips had brushed her forehead in a gentle benediction.

 

~~~~~~

 

Faith walked into the middle of a battle. She'd waited just long enough for her clothing to dry, flipping channels on Wesley's television set while he'd read. There had been a strange kind of tension. All she had wanted was to get back to the hotel, catch some sleep, maybe score a solo mission later that night. She needed some space to sort things out in her head, and she didn't particularly want to deal with Spike and Angel's territorial posturing.

 

As much as she liked a good fight, Faith was getting impatient with Angel. His reaction to Spike wasn't winning him points with anyone, especially since his attitude was spilling over onto the rest of them. It was one of the reasons that she and Wesley had been out together so many times in the last couple of weeks.

 

It was probably all that time alone with Wesley that was causing Faith to get twitchy. She had never spent this much time with a guy in the past. Especially not one she was sleeping with.

 

Angel was standing in front of a rather battered Spike, whose expression was one of sullen defiance. Fred stood off to one side, obviously wanting to protect Spike, but seemingly unable to intervene.

 

Given Angel's fury, however, Faith could understand why Fred was staying back.

 

"What the hell were you thinking?" Angel was just inches from Spike's face. "You could have gotten her killed!"

 

"Angel," Fred began. "I—"

 

"Don't make excuses for him, Fred," Angel ordered. "I told you not to go off with him! I told you that it was dangerous!"

 

"You also told me to take care of him!" Fred shot back, her chin going up in a way Faith couldn't help but admire. The girl had some spunk.

 

"I looked after her," Spike said in a low, angry voice. "She's alright, isn't she? Made sure of it."

 

Angel turned to look at him. "You're useless, Spike. When you have one of those visions, you have no idea what's going on around you. One of these days, you're going to get someone hurt or killed, and when that happens, I'll have a good excuse to stake you."

 

"Angel!" Fred's voice was saturated with a sense of betrayal. "You wouldn't!"

 

Faith could see Angel's hand twitch, and she knew that he was thinking about staking Spike right there just to prove that he would. She could see the tension in Spike's figure, and she knew he would fight back, but Angel was fresh and he wasn't.

 

Besides, Faith had a pretty good idea that Angel would end up regretting it in the long run.

 

She was at Angel's side in a moment, laying a firm hand on his arm. "Let's go, Angel."

 

"Faith—"

 

"Don't." Faith had no problem knocking Angel around when he was being stupid. She didn't know exactly how these things worked, but if Spike had been given these visions by some higher ups, then staking him would be a very bad idea. "Let's go cool off." She glanced over at Fred. "You might want to get Spike cleaned up," she suggested.

 

She and Fred didn't spend a lot of time together; they really couldn't have been more different, but Faith could see that Fred understood what she was getting at. Fred should get Spike somewhere that Angel wasn't, giving them both time to cool down.

 

Faith kept her grip on Angel's arm as she led him off towards his office, pushing him inside and closing the door behind them. "Killing him won't make you feel any better, you know."

 

"It might," Angel growled.

 

Faith could see that he was beginning to feel sheepish about his display of temper. "I think you scared her."

 

Angel slumped down in his chair. "Fred knows I wouldn't hurt her."

 

"Do you really think that matters?" Faith asked. "If you kill her friend, you're going to lose her. Are you trying to get rid of the rest of us?"

 

His flinch told her that she was at least on the right track. "Spike could have gotten her killed."

 

"He looked like he almost got himself killed," Faith replied. "Cut the guy some slack, Angel. You were the one who kept insisting that I could be redeemed. Spike got his soul. He's at least as far along that road as I am."

 

Angel closed his eyes, as though he couldn't bear to think of it. "He's never going to take her place."

 

Faith laughed. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself. "You really think he wants to?"

 

Angel wore a sour expression. "Every time he has one of those damn visions, I remember. What the hell were the Powers playing at?" he demanded.

 

Faith didn't have any answers for him. "I don't know." The silence stretched on, and Faith watched him—her oldest and truest friend. "You know what I think?"

 

"What?" he asked, his voice muffled by his hands.

 

"I think we both need a drink." She stood to pour both of them a glass of the good stuff that Angel kept stashed in his office. "I also think that you need to move on."

 

"I don't know if I can."

 

Faith stared down at the bottle of amber liquid she held. She knew all too well about not moving on, about getting stuck. The thing was, if you got stuck, you couldn't see anything but the pain and anger. You couldn't see the opportunities for change.

 

Faith thought about Wesley's lips on her forehead, and she wondered if she wasn't just as blind as Angel.


	5. Chapter 5

Angel was brooding. He knew it, and he knew that everybody else knew it, too. They were hesitant about interrupting him these days, not wanting to disturb his grief.

 

Cordelia would have kicked his ass by now. She would have come up to his room and told him to get over it, to move on, that it was time to rejoin the land of the living. Not that he was living, but with Cordelia around, he almost felt like he was.

 

When Angel closed his eyes, he could picture it. Cordelia lying on the floor, writhing in the pangs of childbirth. Connor had left as soon as Angel had arrived, unable to watch Angel cut off her head to prevent the birth of the thing that had taken up residence inside of her.

 

He had been ready to make that decision, had been ready to take the necessary action. Angel knew it was the only way, that even though it looked like Cordelia, the woman he loved was gone—most likely forever.

 

There was a part of him that wondered, though. Wondered where she'd gone, wondered if there hadn't been some way of saving her, some way of bringing her back. Maybe if they'd realized what was going on before she became pregnant, before drastic measures became necessary. They had all been blind, Angel most of all.

 

Hadn't he loved her? Shouldn't he have known that it wasn't really Cordelia?

 

Thinking about Cordelia and all that might have been was bad enough, but now he had to deal with Spike day in and day out. Spike, who could most often be found in the company of Fred or Connor or both, who had the visions that had caused all of Cordelia's suffering, who had pursued his soul without any external impetus.

 

Spike, the vampire he'd molded into a monster.

 

Angel looked at Spike and was reminded of his own crimes, his own shortcomings, and it hurt. It hurt to see Spike with his son, sharing an easy camaraderie that didn't require words, especially when Angel couldn't say two sentences without Connor turning his back on him.

 

Keeping Spike around felt like penance, like wearing a hair shirt. He deserved the reminder that he hadn't saved Cordelia, that he had failed his son, that his grip on his soul was precarious at best.

 

Angel knew that. It didn't mean he liked it, and the habit of using Spike as his whipping boy was too deeply ingrained for him to give it up easily.

 

"Angel?"

 

He turned to look at Fred, who was eyeing him warily. The expression on her face shamed him. "Yeah?"

 

"Wesley wants to know if you're coming. He's got a meeting with a client, and the guy wants to meet you, I guess."

 

Angel nodded wearily. "I'll be right down." As she turned away, he asked, "Where's Connor?"

 

"He went out hunting with Spike and Faith," Fred replied. "Spike had another vision."

 

"Oh." Angel noticed that no one had told him about it, and he could understand why. They were trying to shield him from it all, from having to remember that Cordelia was gone, that it was Spike who was acting as their link to the Powers That Be.

 

Besides, the three of them were probably the ones most capable of taking care of themselves in a fight, other than Angel himself. It made sense that they would go out together. Angel could almost picture it. The three of them—they would be poetry in motion—Faith and Spike and his beautiful boy.

 

Angel wished he had the chance to watch.

 

He levered himself up out of his chair, grabbing his coat and heading downstairs to meet Wesley. He was flipping through a book, letting his eyes flit across the pages, probably trying to find a passage he remembered seeing before. Angel had watched him do it often enough.

 

"You ready to go?"

 

Wesley glanced up. "Of course." With a careless motion, he snagged his holsters, shrugged the dual pistols into place, and then threw a jacket on over the top. Angel wondered absently why Wesley had decided to start carrying guns instead of their usual, more archaic weaponry. He knew when, of course, but he'd never asked Wes the reason behind it.

 

Asking would mean bringing up potentially sore subjects, and that wasn't something he was prepared to do.

 

"Who are we going to see?"

 

"Mr. August Nelson," Wesley replied. "You remember him."

 

Angel didn't, actually. His head was too full of regrets and memories these days to recall minor details like the names of their clients. It was one of the reasons he'd turned over that side of the business to Wesley. "Refresh my memory."

 

Wesley's bland expression didn't change. "He hired us to investigate the disappearance of several of his employees. Mr. Nelson was concerned that he had a vampire problem."

 

The information was vaguely familiar. "There was a Tendoor demon that had made its lair under one of his warehouses," Angel recalled.

 

"That's right. Mr. Nelson wanted to meet with us about the possibility of putting our agency on retainer. He has several operations in less than savory parts of town that he believes may need some careful watching." Wesley met Angel's eyes. "The sum he mentioned was quite substantial, Angel."

 

Angel knew what that meant. Getting a job like this, or even several jobs like this, would substantially increase their chances of being able to stay ahead of the bills, rather than always running behind. The vampire had to admit that Wesley was better at this than he had ever been. "What do you think he's going to want?"

 

"Assurances that we're more than capable of handling any needs he has." Wesley lifted an eyebrow, his expression turning sardonic. "I imagine that he may want us to agree to certain terms that may not be to our benefit."

 

Angel sighed. "Am I doing the talking?"

 

"That might be best," Wesley agreed. "He knows that you're the head of the agency."

 

Angel didn't disagree, although he wasn't sure that was entirely accurate anymore. The others had largely taken over the running of the agency. He had little interest in the nuts and bolts of things.

 

There were days when Angel wondered why he didn't just disappear, go off somewhere by himself, try to get over the ache in his heart. He could. The business would run well enough without him for a while. Maybe a long while. He could lick his wounds in peace.

 

But he couldn't leave. There was Connor, of course, but this life, these people—they were all he had left of Cordelia.

 

The silence that fell between him and Wesley as they drove to the meeting place was almost comfortable. Angel's attitude towards his old friend had undergone some changes in the last few months. Partly it was because he'd had months to think about what had happened; partly it was the fact that in the face of Connor's betrayal, Wesley's actions didn't hurt so much—especially since Wesley had only wanted to help.

 

Partly it was that Angel understood what it meant to make a hard choice now, one that you never wanted to make under circumstances that left you no other option.

 

Oddly enough, it had been Cordelia's death that allowed him to completely forgive Wesley.

 

"I've been doing some research," Wesley said casually.

 

Angel glanced over. "Into what?" He thought he already knew the answer.

 

"Into Spike. A second souled vampire—and one with visions—seemed more than a little fortuitous."

 

Angel swallowed. He wondered if Wesley was about to tell him that the Shanshu prophecy actually referred to Spike, rather than to him. That it had been Spike with the grand destiny all along. "What have you found out?"

 

"Absolutely nothing," Wesley replied. "What I have begun finding reference to is a—well, a wild card, if you will. Someone who shrugs off fate to forge their own destiny. The sources I've found indicate that such a person is both extremely rare and destined to have an extraordinarily rough time of it."

 

Angel snorted. "So you're saying that Spike's fought destiny? That's it? Spike never would go where you wanted him to, so that's nothing new."

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Angel caught the inquiring light in Wesley's eyes. "You've never said much about Spike," he commented.

 

"What more is there to say other than he's a pain in the ass?" Angel asked, not really wanting to share much more than that. What else could he say other than he'd helped to create the monster Spike was now?

 

 _No_ , that little voice in the back of his head reminded him. _The monster he used to be._

 

The exasperation in Wesley's voice was clear. "Angel, may I remind you that Spike sought his soul? He went seeking his own redemption. You of all people ought to know how rare that is."

 

"I do know." Angel couldn't tell him that it was jealousy, mixed with shame, that held Angel back. Spike was the prodigal son come home, and Angel was the angry older brother, chafing at the boundaries his soul placed around him. He hadn't chosen this; Spike had.

 

It hurt.

 

"Really, Angel," Wesley went on. "We get very few breaks in our line of work. Before Spike came, we were drifting, and you know it. The visions from the Powers That Be—they've always helped to define our purpose."

 

Angel sighed. "I know, Wes. What's between us is complicated."

 

The other man gave him an impatient look. "Well, then, deal with it, man. Deal with it and move on, because your brooding is getting old."

 

Angel chuckled. "You drew the short straw to give me a pep talk, huh?"

 

Wesley's face was rueful. "How am I doing?"

 

"Better than the first time you tried it." Angel glanced over and met Wesley's eyes, brown to blue, and they both smiled, remembering the woman they'd loved.

 

"I miss her, too, you know."

 

"I know."

 

~~~~~

 

Angel knew he needed to apologize, to Fred if not Spike.

 

Well, he wasn't going to apologize to Spike in any case, so it would have to be to Fred.

 

A smile broke out over his face as he watched her curse and scramble under the desk for the pencil she'd dropped, catching sight of him as she popped back up. "Hey, Fred."

 

"Hi."

 

He sighed. Her rather chilly tone of voice told him that she wasn't going to make this easy on him. "I'm sorry if I scared you the other day."

 

"I don't think I'm the one you oughta be apologizing to." The Texas accent was thick on her words, and Angel knew that it was a sure sign she was angry.

 

Angel sat down across the desk from her. "Fred, my relationship with Spike is complicated. There are things that you don't understand, and—"

 

"He saved my life twice!" Fred burst out, meeting his eyes with a kind of fire he hadn't often seen from her. It came in bursts, Angel knew, and then would subside again. Apparently, she'd taken his admonition to heart and had taken Spike under her wing. "You didn't even ask what happened the other night, Angel. I was the one who went along. Spike wanted me to stay back, but I wasn't going to let him go alone. I made the decision, and he made sure I didn't get a scratch on me. You were ready to kill him for that."

 

"Fred…" Angel didn't know how to answer. She was near enough to the truth that he didn't want to examine his motives too closely. If he killed Spike, Angel got rid of yet another reminder of the past he kept trying to outrun, of the memories he wanted to bury.

 

In the end, it wasn't about Spike. Other than the fact that he was still annoying as hell, even after over a hundred years.

 

"You told me to watch out for him," Fred continued, unfazed. "You told him to look after me. Well, that's what we've been doing, so if you want to beat him up or stake him, you're going to have to go through me first."

 

The color was high in her cheeks, and Angel could see her trembling. "I promise I won't hurt Spike, okay?"

 

She didn't appear mollified in the least. "You swear?"

 

"I swear," Angel repeated. "I just don't want to lose you."

 

Fred sighed, laughed a little. "You're not going to lose me, Angel, not unless you try something really stupid again."

 

Angel shifted. "It's not going to happen."

 

"We all miss her," Fred said quietly. "You remember when I was trying to decide whether or not to stay here or go back home with my folks?"

 

"I remember." He'd hated to watch her go. Fred had become so vital in such a short time.

 

Fred gave him a smile tinged with sorrow. "I told my parents that Cordy was the heart, the person that held everyone together. I'm sorry I can't be that."

 

"Fred, that's…" He trailed off, trying to figure out some way of reassuring her.

 

She gave him a serious look. "We're all a little lost right now, Angel, and I know it's harder for you because you were in love with her. And because you were the one who had to kill her. I think we all wish that we could have done something different."

 

Angel swallowed, realizing suddenly that although he'd felt as though he'd been cut adrift, he still had Connor.

 

He still had a shot with Connor. If he didn't somehow screw it all up again.

 

Angel heard their voices before he saw them. Connor, Faith, and Spike came swaggering into the hotel, Connor and Spike jostling each other like boys. As he watched, Faith rolled her eyes and gave each of them a good shove. Connor took a friendly swipe at her, and she blocked him easily, getting into a quick rhythm where they both tried to smack each other.

 

Connor laughed, and the sound nearly broke Angel's heart.

 

~~~~~

 

The cry brought him running. It was a wild sound, like the sound of an animal that had been mortally wounded. He flew down the stairs, skidding into the lobby. Spike was crouched on the floor, his hands pulling at his hair. Fred was crouched just behind him, her arm thrown over his shoulders, trying to anchor him in reality.

 

Angel tried not to be around when Spike had his visions, but the few he'd witnessed had Fred in constant contact with him, trying to keep him from going off into one of his mad rants.

 

He fumbled the last couple buttons of his shirt closed before he knelt in front of Spike, trying to catch his attention. "Spike? What do you see?" When Spike didn't respond, Angel gripped his chin, forcing Spike's head up to meet his eyes. "Tell me what you see."

 

"Boy," Spike managed to gasp out. "And a girl. 'Bout to be sacrificed. So much blood," he moaned, trying to look away, but Angel wasn't having any of it.

 

"Stay with me," he ordered. "It hasn't happened yet, and it won't, unless you lose it. Pull yourself together."

 

Fred gave him a reproachful look, obviously not liking his approach to things. "It's okay, Spike," she soothed, rubbing circles on his back. "You'll stop it."

 

Angel watched as Spike's eyes cleared, his gaze sharpening. He always got scarily focused after a vision, and Angel didn't think he was quite sane at that moment. Too intense to be completely rational, was what he thought.

 

Spike was on his feet and would have been out the door if Angel hadn't been ready for him. "The car is faster," he said simply, grabbing Spike's arm and steering him out the back way, where the automobile was parked.

 

Spike turned, Angel's words sparking some sense. Angel sometimes wondered why it was that Spike seemed so lost after one of the visions, as if the demon that allowed him to physically withstand the burden made him weaker in other areas.

 

He paused long enough to grab a broadsword, following Spike out to the car. Angel had just started the engine when he felt the vehicle shudder, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Connor in the backseat. "I heard all the noise," his son explained.

 

"Glad you could make it," Angel replied sincerely, and then he drove, following Spike's terse directions. There was still a mad light in Spike's eyes, and Angel found himself wondering what would happen if Spike managed to get himself killed one of these days. If his desire to save the girl—or the guy—overpowered his self-preservation.

 

Angel found the thought more disturbing than he liked to admit, even to himself.

 

They stopped at a wooded park, and both Spike and Connor leapt out of the car before it was completely stopped. Angel cursed as he put it into park and grabbed his sword, just a few seconds behind in his pursuit.

 

There were too many. That was the first thought that crossed his mind, seeing the clearing crowded with vampires, preparing to sacrifice the young couple on the stone altar in the center of the loose circle. The demon standing behind the altar, the one accepting the sacrifice, was reminiscent of a great reptile. It reminded Angel, oddly enough, of one of those Egyptian gods—Sobek, he thought, with the head of a crocodile.

 

It certainly had the teeth to do some serious damage to the two youngsters tied to the altar.

 

The fight was chaotic, as it nearly always was, but from the first Angel could feel both Connor and Spike, could sense where they were and what they were doing. The three of them fought like a team, as if they had been fighting side-by-side for years. Angel lost himself in the battle, in the wild, rushing joy.

 

This part—this part was good. It was simple. There was only the moment and the battle, and Angel remembered Spike's words from long ago, "Fists, fangs, and sod all else." He understood now.

 

And then it all came screeching to a halt.

 

Connor was fighting with one of the last vampires, Spike had just broken the neck of the demon threatening the two adolescents, and then another vampire appeared out of nowhere to catch Connor in a flanking action.

 

Angel was too far away to stop what he knew was coming. The newest vampire managed to disarm Connor, and the second brought his sword up for the kill.

 

The moment seemed to stop, and Angel knew he was watching the death of his son.

 

Spike came in low, on the right, taking Connor down. The killing stroke missed Connor, biting deeply into the back of Spike's leg, and Angel heard his cry, quickly choked off.

 

Angel got there only a split second later—it would have been a split second too late—dusting both vampires in one smooth motion with the stakes in his wrist sheathes. As the last of the dust settled, he pulled Spike's unresisting body off of Connor. "You okay?"

 

Connor nodded breathlessly. "I'm fine." He looked at Spike. "Spike? You okay?"

 

"Been better," Spike replied through gritted teeth. "Been worse, too." He tried to stand, grunting in surprise when Angel took his weight.

 

"Easy," Angel advised. "That was a nasty slice."

 

Spike nodded, his face grim with pain. "You're telling me."

 

Connor took the other side, draping Spike's arm over his sturdy young shoulders. "Let's go."

 

"I'm going to bleed all over your car," Spike pointed out.

 

Angel just smiled. "You won't be the first, and I doubt you'll be the last."

 

He felt Connor's hand brush his arm, and Angel wondered if this was what Spike was there for—to serve as a bridge between the two of them. If that were the case, then perhaps Angel could endure Spike after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Spike watched her flit around the room—like a hummingbird, he thought, all quick motion and bright color. Her yellow t-shirt stood out in the dimness of the room as she straightened things up. "You need anything else?" Fred asked anxiously. "More blood, or maybe something to read? I'll bet Angel would move the TV in here. We get a few channels with the antenna. I could—"

 

"Fred. I'm okay."

 

Her motion slowed, stilled. "I should let you get some rest."

 

"You could stay." Spike wanted it to sound like a suggestion, rather than a request. He wasn't used to having someone worry over him.

 

Her face brightened. "Are you sure you want me to? I mean, you probably want to sleep, and I don't want to bother you. You're probably sick of seeing me all the time anyway. What with the being around constantly, I don't want to wear out my welcome if—"

 

"Fred." Spike couldn't hold back the chuckle. "Stay. 'Sides, I don't think it'd be possible for you to wear out your welcome with me."

 

She laughed nervously and perched on the chair next to his bed. "Oh. That's nice to hear." She gave him another anxious look. "Are you sure you don't want more blood? Angel said you'd lost an awful lot."

 

"I think I've been topped up again." Spike looked away, thoughtful. "Don't think I've ever had anybody fussing over a little slice like this, and now I've got a couple mother hens."

 

Angel had been amazingly solicitous in getting him back to the hotel and bandaged up. Considering the fact that the older vampire had made it a point to avoid him for the last few weeks, it was quite a change. Connor had shadowed them into the lobby, and Faith and Wesley had emerged from the office where they had been talking something over.

 

In short, there had been no less than five people wanting to make sure he wasn't going to dust anytime soon.

 

Wes and Faith had drifted off together once they'd made sure he was okay. Connor went to get cleaned up, and Angel had helped him up to his room, trying to say his thank you after he'd made sure the bandages were secure. "What you did—"

 

"Don't." Spike hadn't wanted Angel's gratitude. It felt wrong somehow, that Angel would think he owed him for Connor's life. The boy was family, and Spike liked him. "Did it for him, not for you."

 

"I know." Angel had given him a half-smile, then turned to see Fred in the doorway. "Let me know if you need anything."

 

Then there had been Fred, fluttering about like a bird, wanting to be sure that he was alright.

 

She'd been the best thing about being in L.A. for the last few weeks he'd been at the hotel. Spike had opened his eyes, and there she'd been—a pretty, waif-like creature. She reminded him of Willow when he allowed himself to think of Sunnydale at all, with her rambles and quick intelligence.

 

In truth, Spike tried to keep his thoughts as far away from the Hellmouth as possible.

 

He hadn't thought it would go this way. Spike had believed that the soul would change things, that it would make him a better man, that he could go back to Sunnydale and show Buffy that he'd changed. What Spike hadn't expected was for the soul to change how he felt about Buffy.

 

Oh, he still loved her, of course. Spike would always love her, of that he was quite sure. He understood why she'd hesitated now, though, and why she felt like she couldn't be with him. Spike understood how utterly destructive their relationship had been.

 

And, as much as he loved her, Spike couldn't help but hate her just a little for using him as she had.

 

Not that he hadn't forgiven her, but Spike wasn't sure he could be with her.

 

He'd been trying to sort it all out in his head—how he felt, how he should feel, where he should go next—when the visions had started. Spike had made it as far as L.A., and had done fairly well up until then.

 

With the visions had come the cracks in his sanity, however, and by the time he'd saved Fred's life, Spike hadn't been sure what was real and what wasn't anymore. When he was too late, and unable to save the latest victim, Spike hadn't been sure if he had been the perpetrator, or if it had been someone else.

 

Fred had managed to root him in the present, in the here-and-now. She'd stuck with him, been a truer friend than anyone he'd ever known. Spike wasn't quite sure what to make of it all.

 

"What do you want to do?" she asked him, breaking into his thoughts.

 

Spike hesitated, and then he asked, "Do you have a deck of cards? Haven't played poker in a while."

 

Her whole face brightened. "Sure! I'll go get them."

 

Fred was lonely. Spike knew the signs. He'd dealt with much of the same from Buffy after her resurrection, when she'd come to him for comfort and companionship.

 

The Slayer had been using him then, too.

 

Fred, on the other hand, just wanted to feel as though she had a purpose, and Spike could relate to that. Her purpose for the moment seemed to be keeping him relatively lucid. Spike's purpose was saving whoever needed saving in his near-nightly visions.

 

"Okay. Got them," she announced, coming back into the room. Fred hesitated only slightly before joining him on the bed, sitting cross-legged to his right. "What do you want to play?"

 

"Do you know Texas Hold 'Em?" Spike asked.

 

Fred scoffed. "Please, Spike. I'm _from_ Texas."

 

He grinned. "Ladies deal first."

 

~~~~~

 

When Spike woke late the next afternoon, it was to find Fred's head cradled on his shoulder, her breathing deep and even. They had played a few hands of poker, betting with the sack of pennies she'd had squirreled away in her room. Spike had asked her whether she had a bloke on the line, just to make idle conversation, and she had told him about Gunn.

 

Fred then asked him about any girls, and he'd told her about Buffy, although his account had been heavily edited for sexual content.

 

They both must have fallen asleep at some point during their talk, and Spike just hoped that he hadn't been the one to go down first. About the worst impression you could make on a pretty girl—falling asleep so she thinks you're bored when that was the furthest thing from the truth.

 

It had been nice, though, just to talk. Just to feel as though someone wanted his company—not because he was convenient, not because he wouldn't run off and tell her friends what she'd said, just because it was him. Because she liked him.

 

Spike knew, because she'd said so.

 

The remark had been off the cuff, soon after he'd explained that Buffy hadn't loved him, and that was why he wasn't going back. Fred had said boldly, "Well, I'm glad, because I like having you around."

 

Spike thought that maybe he'd found a friend.

 

Of course, part of that could have been because their boss was a souled vampire, so hanging out with him wasn't so taboo. It could also have been the general fragmentation of the group, the fact that all of them were searching for something to hang on to. Something to keep them afloat in the aftermath of the past year.

 

Fred had told him about Cordelia within the first week of his arrival. About her visions, her leaving and coming back, the strange pregnancy that had threatened to destroy them all. How Angel had had to kill her. It had taken Spike this long just to sort through everything in his own head, to be able to work out the dynamics of the group beyond the obvious facts.

 

Wes and Faith were sleeping together—a vampire could smell it. Connor and Angel were still dancing around each other, trying to figure out what it meant to be father and son. Fred—well, Fred had him now, and she was putting considerable effort into making sure he didn't go crazy.

 

Spike knew that he'd have gone completely barmy if it hadn't been for her keeping him grounded. It didn't help that the pain the visions brought on was much like the pain of the chip firing in his brain, since that had only convinced him that he was the one causing the damage—or that he was going to be the one responsible for the violence.

 

These days, he could feel Fred's hand on his arm, on his shoulder, on his back, anchoring him, reminding him that the visions were all in his head, no matter how bad the pain got, no matter how real it seemed.

 

These days, Spike didn't give a moment's thought to going back to Sunnydale because there appeared to be better reasons to stay where he was.

 

He felt her stir next to him, and Spike went still, waiting to see what she would do. Fred's eyes fluttered open, and she offered him a shy smile. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to go to sleep on you."

 

"'S alright," he assured her. "Thought maybe I was the one to drift off first."

 

She frowned. "I don't remember. We probably went at about the same time." Fred hadn't yet moved, and Spike couldn't say he was sorry about that. Her body heat warmed him as little else did, and he couldn't help but compare this waking to others where Buffy had run off immediately.

 

Well, Fred wasn't Buffy. That much was obvious.

 

"I should probably get up." Fred gave no sign that she was actually going to carry out that plan.

 

Spike hesitated before saying, "You can stay as long as you like. I don't mind."

 

She gave a soft sigh. "You know what I miss most about Charles? I mean, our relationship."

 

"What's that, pet?"

 

"Waking up like this, with a man, feeling safe." Fred's eyes were very far away, and Spike stroked her hair in response to the melancholy he heard in her voice. "I always felt safe with Charles."

 

Spike was quiet, thinking about that. The worst part of what had happened between him and Buffy was that he no longer thought of himself as safe with the people he loved. There had been only one rule he'd lived by over the long years, and that had been that he didn't hurt the people he loved.

 

Spike didn't hurt the girl—and then he had.

 

Even now, he wondered if that had only been because it was Buffy. They weren't good for each other, and had it been another girl, another time, everything would have been fine. Or maybe it was because he'd been a monster without a soul. Buffy had drilled that into his head—it was the soul that made someone worthy of love. That made a vampire less of a monster and more of a man.

 

Then Spike had gotten his soul and found out just how wrong Buffy was. Or maybe he'd seen how right she was and had realized that he'd never be worthy of love, and the soul didn't have anything to do with it.

 

Spike didn't trust himself anymore, but he hadn't needed the soul for that.

 

As though she'd read his mind, Fred said, "I feel safe with you."

 

"Don't know that you should, luv." He could hear the yearning in his own voice, wishing that it could be otherwise, that he could trust himself again. Wishing that the guilt wasn't such a heavy burden.

 

"Why?" Fred demanded. "Because you're a vampire?"

 

"Because I don't always keep my promises."

 

She looked him right in the eyes, her face so earnest Spike couldn't help but believe her. "You haven't made me any promises, Spike, but you've saved my life a couple of times now. You're a good man."

 

"I'm a vampire."

 

"So what?" Fred asked. "Lorne's a demon, Angel's a vampire, Connor's—something." She smiled at him, a sweet smile that made his heart ache. "None of that matters. You're my friend."

 

He returned her smile, because it was all he could do. "That I am."

 

~~~~~

 

Spike limped downstairs a few hours later, favoring his right leg. It was better, but it would be a day or two yet before he was back to normal. A deep cut like that, through muscle and tendon, took a while to heal even on a vampire.

 

Fred had gone to get cleaned up, but she'd mentioned going with him to get something to eat. He never knew what to think about her innocent presumption that they would spend time together, go places together. It warmed him.

 

"Hey, Spike," Connor said, looking up from the comic he was perusing. In an attempt to get out of the hotel and away from Angel, the boy had gone with him and Fred to a movie one night recently. Fred had wanted to see the latest Spiderman movie, and she and Spike had been forced to spend the next few hours after the film was over explaining comic books and their purpose.

 

Connor, like any other teenage boy, had been entranced. Spike wondered if it wasn't because he had more in common with Peter Parker—among other superheroes—than your average kid.

 

"How's it going?"

 

The boy shrugged. "Okay. How's the leg?"

 

"It'll be fine in a day or so."

 

The silence hung, and Wesley exited the office, giving a short nod in their direction. "Have either of you seen Faith?"

 

"Not today," Spike replied. "You lose your girl?"

 

Wesley frowned. "She's not my girl."

 

Spike and Connor exchanged a look, and Spike could see Connor's lips twist into a smirk. "You guys are together," Connor pointed out.

 

Wesley stiffened. "That's none of your business. If you see Faith, let her know that I had to run some errands."

 

Spike shrugged. "Yeah, sure." He watched Wesley leave, then asked Connor, "Is he always that much of a prig?"

 

Connor considered the question. "Some, yeah. He's good in a fight, though."

 

Spike nodded, knowing that being good in a fight covered a multitude of sins in Connor's mind. "You seen your dad?"

 

Connor shrugged. "He came down awhile ago, but he went back upstairs again." Spike couldn't quite read his expression, the boy's blue eyes troubled. "Can I ask you a question?"

 

"You can ask."

 

"What happened between you two? Everybody keeps telling me how wonderful Angel is, but you don't like him." Connor drew a pattern on the countertop with his finger, not meeting Spike's eyes. "You're the only one who hasn't told me that I should give him a chance."

 

"Figure that's up to you, innit?" Spike replied. He sighed, not quite knowing what more to say in response. What he and Angel had was impossibly complicated. "Angel's family," he finally admitted reluctantly. "You might not always like the people you're related to, but it doesn't change the fact."

 

"My father—Holtz—lied to me. So did everyone else."

 

"Everybody lies," Spike said quietly. "They might not mean to, but sometimes _they_ don't even know the truth."

 

Connor's expression was uncertain. He looked so young, and Spike's undead heart ached for him, ached for the boy who shared his bloodline, faint though the connection might be. "Then how do you know who to trust?"

 

Spike sighed. "You don't. You just gotta go with your gut, hope you don't bugger things up too badly."

 

He nodded slowly. "Do you trust him? Angel, I mean."

 

Spike gave the question the consideration he thought it was due, and then he shrugged. "Yeah, I do. Trust him where you're concerned, at least. He'd turn the world upside down for you, and there are worse things than being loved like that."

 

"Yeah, I guess." Connor glanced up. "My mom loved me. I saw her once, and she said I was the one good thing she'd done."

 

When he trailed off, Spike just smiled. "Reckon she did, reckon she was right. Whatever else she and Angel might have done, they got it right with you, lad. Must be nice having someone who would do anything for you."

 

Spike wished he could say the same thing. He wished he could point at something, anything, that would show he wasn't worthless. That he wasn't a parasite, a useless, weak fool.

 

All he'd ever wanted was someone to love, who would love him in return. Although he'd searched for his soul in the hope of being worthy, in receiving it he realized that he never would be.

 

How was that for irony?


	7. Chapter 7

Wesley knew it had been a mistake as soon as he left the hotel; being that short with Connor and Spike would only prove their point. He hadn't been lying, however. Faith wasn't his girl; she'd made that very clear.

 

At the same time, things were changing between them. There were softer moments more often, moments where they looked at each other and knew they were each thinking the same thing. Nights where they lay in his bed in comfortable silence, or sharing idle gossip.

 

There were moments when Wesley found himself sharing information with her that he never would have thought to share, and yet he couldn't regret it. Things were so easy between them during those times.

 

But at other times their words would be sharp as knives, cutting each other to the quick.

 

At least the Hyperion was beginning to feel like a base of operations again, rather than a tomb. It wasn't the same without Cordelia, of course, but the wound didn't ache as much these days.

 

Wesley ran his errands without giving much thought to them; there were magic supplies to pick up, things he liked to have on hand. He had to retrieve a book he'd ordered, and pick up a few groceries.

 

It surprised him to find Faith waiting for him at his apartment when he arrived, especially since she didn't have a key.

 

Wesley didn't say anything, merely raising an eyebrow and waiting for her explanation, certain that it would be forthcoming eventually. "The skills you learn in prison," Faith said with a smirk. "You know, if they think prison is going to reform a person, they're seriously mistaken."

 

"No. Reformation comes from within," Wesley agreed.

 

It was the closest he'd ever come to telling her he understood, that he knew she'd changed and for the better. If he had been a different kind of man, Wesley might have told her that he was proud of her for it.

 

Perhaps something in his tone gave him away, because Faith dropped her gaze, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Yeah. I guess you could say that."

 

Glancing at the clock, Wesley realized that it was late. "Are you hungry?"

 

She looked startled, and then shrugged. "I could eat. What were you thinking?"

 

He could hear the wariness in her voice, sense the shift. Neither of them quite knew what they were doing these days. "Nothing fancy," Wesley assured her, shrugging. "I'm not dressed for it."

 

"What are we waiting for?"

 

Wesley took her to his favorite pub. It had good beer and decent food, and neither one of them would feel uncomfortable in their casual attire. He ordered drinks for both of them and watched Faith as she looked over the menu, wondering what it would be like to take her out to a fancier place sometime. He wondered if she'd enjoy the experience of getting dressed up, going out, eating gourmet food, or if she would be uncomfortable and thus irritable.

 

Cordelia had enjoyed that sort of thing, and Wesley thought that Fred had taken pleasure in their night at the ballet. Faith was a different sort of girl entirely.

 

Or was she?

 

"What's got you so worked up?"

 

Her voice pulled Wesley out of his thoughts, and he blinked. "Worked up?" he asked carefully.

 

"You look like you're thinking pretty hard about something," Faith said. "Everything okay at the hotel?"

 

"Everything is fine." Wesley thought there might be a way to ask without asking. "I was just remembering."

 

Faith, he'd learned, was insatiably curious at times. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

 

"A couple of years ago, we all went out to the ballet," Wesley replied. "I think it was Cordelia's idea. She wanted us to get out, since we'd been spending so much time either with Connor or working on cases."

 

"So you all got dressed up and went out to the ballet?" Faith asked dubiously. "Doesn't sound like much of a night out to me."

 

"What would be a night out for you?" he asked, sounding as casual as possible.

 

Shrugging, Faith waved a hand. "A place like this is good. You can get out without feeling like you have to be on display. Getting fancy isn't a way to relax."

 

"You don't like to get fancy?"

 

"Do you?" she countered. "Haven't seen you wearing a tie lately, Wes."

 

He leaned back, away from her. They'd been moving closer, leaning over the table, their posture unconscious. Wesley should have expected her to go on the offensive. Faith always did when things got too personal for her. He was ready to evade, to tell her that it wasn't necessary these days, and so he didn't see the point in it. Instead, Wesley opted for the truth.

 

"That's not who I am any longer."

 

Her face softened, his words unknotting something between them, easing a tension they'd both felt. Without realizing what he was doing, Wesley had moved them to the next level, although neither of them knew it. He just felt that being honest with Faith was the right thing to do.

 

It felt good.

 

"Yeah," she agreed. "I guess I never was that girl, you know? Just white trash."

 

"No." Wesley regretted the sharpness of his tone as soon as the word left his mouth, but he wasn't willing to take it back either. "No, you're not," he added more softly this time.

 

Faith laughed, and Wesley thought she sounded nervous. "You ever think it's funny?"

 

"What's funny?"

 

"You know. Us."

 

He knew what she was remembering without her saying it—pain, blood, glass, and flame. "Sometimes."

 

Faith changed the subject then, to ask a question about the agency, about what he'd discovered regarding Spike, but Wesley could tell that things had changed.

 

Before the last couple years, Wesley had never truly understood what the sages meant when they said change was the only constant. He did now.

 

~~~~~

 

The hotel was no longer silent. In a way, Wesley found the noise odd. After Angel had tried to kill him, after his exile, Wesley had been accompanied by silence. It had wrapped around him like a cloak, a stillness that seemed to speak of death.

 

The death of dreams, the death of friendships, the death of hope.

 

It had been the same after Cordelia died, only the silence had infected the hotel, spreading to its occupants, weighing them down with a great burden.

 

Today, however, he could hear the sounds of a computer game, Connor's muttered curses and exclamations, Spike's encouragements, Faith's laughter. Wesley wondered why he was in the office, but there was work that needed to be done, and he didn't feel comfortable joining them, not really a part of things.

 

"Hey, Wes."

 

He glanced up to see Fred lingering in the doorway. "Fred. How are you?"

 

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied. "I was just wondering if you wanted something to eat. We're going to order dinner pretty soon."

 

He frowned. "I thought we had a meeting scheduled for tonight."

 

She shook her head. "He rescheduled. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you. Angel's going to take Faith and Connor with him to patrol Mr. Nelson's property," Fred replied. "He thought it would be good if they were familiar with it."

 

Wesley ran a hand over his spiky hair, already disheveled from a day of research, going over the books for any clue as to the identity of the artifact Spike had discovered as a result of his latest vision. "I take it Angel wants us to watch out for Spike tonight."

 

Fred hesitated. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind staying. I can, it's just that I told one of the graduate assistants from the physics program at UCLA that I'd meet her. It's nothing special, but she read my article from last year, and she wanted to talk to me about it. I didn't think this would be a good place, so I said we could meet at a coffee shop. If you're okay with that. I can cancel, but—"

 

"No. You should go," Wesley said quietly. "They ought to take you seriously."

 

"Kinda hard to do that when a big demon tries to come out of a portal and eat you," Fred replied self-deprecatingly. "Nobody wants to believe what they saw, so they tell themselves that nothing makes sense."

 

"You didn't get an offer to go back from UCLA?" Wesley asked, trying to remember if he'd heard anything about that. It wasn't like he'd been in the loop at the time, so it was no wonder he couldn't recall.

 

Fred shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't know. After what happened with Professor Seidell, I'm not sure that's where I want to be. And going somewhere else…" She trailed off and then shrugged. "I thought about it, but I can't leave now. Maybe I'll go back one of these days."

 

"You should," Wesley said, hoping Fred could hear the sincerity in his voice. He wondered when it had happened—when his love had dimmed to a deep affection. Perhaps it had been when he realized that he was too dark for her—or, perhaps, that she wasn't dark enough for him. Wesley had an idea that Fred would never have understood his feelings for Lilah—more than that, she would have despised him for his actions.

 

Perhaps they were never meant to be. Or maybe it was simply that their time had passed, never to come again.

 

Surprise reflected on her face. "You think I should leave?"

 

"No," Wesley said quickly. "Of course not. I just think that you have a gift that shouldn't be wasted."

 

"Oh." She flushed. "Thank you."

 

"How is Spike doing?" Wesley asked. If he was going to be babysitting the vampire for the evening, he wanted to know what he was getting himself into.

 

Fred shrugged. "He has more good days than bad now."

 

"I suppose that's something," Wesley stated, not sure if that was supposed to reassure him or not.

 

She laughed. "He's not going to bite you, Wes. All you have to do is make sure you keep him from running off if he has a vision."

 

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

 

"Grab him and steer him towards your car," Fred replied practically. "Oh, and if it looks like he's having a vision, it's better if you're in contact with him."

 

"In contact with him?"

 

"Yeah. If you're touching him, Spike knows that it's just a vision."

 

Wesley wasn't quite sure what to think about that, other than that he had to hope Spike didn't have a vision. Really, an evening of uninterrupted research would be nice for a change. "Right."

 

"So, dinner?" Fred asked again.

 

"Whatever sounds good," Wesley replied. "You know what I like."

 

"Yeah, I do." Fred gave him a quick smile. "Thanks for staying tonight, Wes."

 

"You shouldn't be stuck here all the time if you've got somewhere else to be."

 

Fred just shook her head. "I don't mind. Spike is—he's a good guy."

 

"I'm sure he is," Wesley murmured as she left the office, bending his head over his book again.

 

~~~~~

 

He didn't bother looking up when Spike plopped down in the chair across from the desk. "Did you need something, Spike?"

 

"No."

 

Wesley decided not to ask again. He had a feeling that the vampire was trying to annoy him.

 

"You just going to read all night?"

 

"I had considered it."

 

"You ever think about doing something fun?"

 

"I am doing something fun."

 

Spike's snort made his opinion clear.

 

Wesley decided that in this case, ignorance was bliss.

 

"You know there's a game on tonight, don't you?" Spike asked.

 

Wesley felt his attention pique at that. "Who's playing?"

 

"Dunno. It's football, innit?"

 

He had to concede the point. "May I remind you that the hotel doesn't get cable?"

 

"Because Angelus is a cheap bastard," Spike opined. "Not the point. There's a bar in town that shows it."

 

Wesley gave him a suspicious look. "Why me? Why not go with Fred some other night?"

 

Spike lifted an eyebrow. "Don't know if you've noticed, mate, but Fred isn't a football fan. Sweet girl, but she goes on about the physics of the ball, has more information about why the ball didn't go into the net than anyone wants to hear while they're watching a footie game."

 

Wesley could feel his lips twitch. He could just imagine. "And the visions?"

 

Spike shrugged. "We'll find a dark corner."

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley wanted to ask a thousand questions, to test his theories as to why Spike had a soul and to explore whether he really was one of the wild cards to which Wesley’s books kept making reference.

 

Spike, however, was not to be distracted. He ordered a drink and expected Wesley to pay for the both of them. Then, he focused on the game between Manchester United and Chelsea.

 

Wesley found the experience rather unique. He'd been out with Angel before, who tended to blend in, rather than draw attention to himself. Spike was the polar opposite, soon surrounding himself with friends and foes alike. After the first two drinks, Wesley didn't even have to pull out his wallet. Spike's new friends had no problem buying, although Wesley refrained. He was the one driving home, and if Spike had a vision, Wesley knew he needed to be sharp.

 

Spike certainly wasn't planning on being sharp.

 

"Wes." Spike's hand clamped down on his arm, his blue eyes glazed with pain. "We have to go."

 

Wesley grabbed Spike's arm, hustling him back towards the bathrooms and calling out their apologies as they went. There was a fire exit in the back, and Wesley pushed through the fire door, ignoring the alarm that went off. "What do you see?"

 

"Bloody hell," Spike gasped. "Why can't I watch a sodding football game?" he shouted at the sky. "Leave me the hell alone!"

 

"Spike!" Wesley was reminded of Cordelia in that moment. He could recall her yelling at the Powers That Be, too. "What do we need to do?"

 

"Dunno," Spike replied. "Couldn't get a bead on the area. I don't know where they were." He moaned. "Gonna happen again. Gonna come up again."

 

"What's going to come up again?" Wesley asked, then decided to change tactics. "What did you smell, Spike? Were there any distinctive odors?"

 

He'd been good at this once before, standing behind Cordelia, supporting her, talking her through the visions. At least, he had been good at this before everything had changed. Before it had all gone to hell.

 

"Sweet," Spike muttered. "Sweet like sugar, no, syrup. Dark, too dark to see anything."

 

Wesley cursed, reaching for his cell phone. He didn't bother trying Angel's phone. Faith answered hers right away. "Faith, Spike just had a vision. He said he smelled something sweet like syrup, and it was too dark to see anything."

 

"Aren't vampires supposed to be able to see in the dark?" she asked.

 

"Dark is relative," Wesley replied. "Even vampires have difficulty seeing when there's a total absence of light."

 

"So what are you—" Faith broke off. "You're thinking Nelson's place. He's got a candy factory."

 

"That's right around where we found the Tendoor last time," Wesley replied. "Tendoors are known to mate for life, and they like darkness. Angel knows the place I'm talking about."

 

"We're on our way now," Faith replied. "I'll see you when we get back."

 

"Alright," Wesley said, realizing that she'd already hung up. He looked over at Spike, who was huddled miserably against the car. "Spike, it's going to be fine. We know where they're going."

 

"It won't be in time," Spike said, his voice full of mournful knowledge. "I'm never in time when I can't hang onto it."

 

Wesley touched his arm, knowing that Spike was referring to the vision. There had been times when Cordelia couldn't see clearly, and he remembered that it had torn her up inside. "You're not alone anymore. They'll be in time."

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley didn't have any more answers at the end of their evening than he'd had at the beginning. He'd discovered that Spike was startlingly like Angel where it concerned the safety of innocents, and yet so different that it was impossible not to compare them.

 

It had been an enjoyable evening, though, up until the vision struck.

 

Wesley leapt to his feet as Connor and Angel came through the front doors, Faith in Angel's arms. "What happened?"

 

"She got knocked around some," Angel replied. "She's fine, Wes. Just unconscious."

 

"If she were fine, she wouldn't be unconscious," Wesley shot back, checking her pulse with gentle fingers. It beat, strong and steady, and he let out a sigh of relief.

 

"She hasn't been out that long," Angel assured him. "I'll just take her upstairs, and—"

 

"I've got her." Wesley cut him off, grateful when Angel didn't argue with him. The Slayer didn't weigh much, and he didn't have a problem carrying her up the stairs to the room Faith normally occupied.

 

Well, the room she occupied when she wasn't with him.

 

He wondered what Faith would say if she woke while in his arms. She would demand to be put down, of course, insist that she was fine and try to prevent him from fussing over her. Wesley thought he might be too far gone for that. Too far gone to walk away and pretend it didn't matter that she'd been hurt. To let her bandage her own wounds.

 

Laying her on the bed, Wesley retrieved a washcloth from the adjoining bathroom to wipe the blood and grime from her face.

 

Faith began to stir as he ran the damp cloth over her face, grunting as she opened her eyes. "Wes?"

 

"Hold still," he commanded, peering at the scrape on her head to make sure he'd gotten all the dirt out. "You have quite a bump."

 

"Where's Angel?" she asked, trying to sit up. "And Connor?"

 

"They're fine," he replied. "Angel brought you back."

 

She slumped back on the bed. "How long was I out?"

 

"I don't know. Angel said it hadn't been long, and you only just got here." Wesley tilted her head to check for any damage that he might have missed. "How are you feeling?"

 

"If you're asking if I have a concussion, my head's harder than that," Faith responded, catching his hand to still it. Wesley had been brushing her hair back, almost without thinking, trying to settle himself.

 

Seeing her in Angel's arms like that—

 

"Good." Uncertain again, he stood, thinking that perhaps now would be a good time to leave. "I should let you rest. I'll just—”

 

"You could stay," Faith ventured. Then, her tone becoming tentative, she added, "If you don't have anywhere else to be, I mean. Not that you need to stay with me, because I'm fine."

 

"I should stay," Wesley said. "We don't know that you don't have a concussion, so I should probably be here tonight, just in case."

 

It was a lame excuse, and Wesley knew it. Moreover, he could see from Faith's expression that she knew it, too. Perhaps it was a mark of the change that was occurring when she merely nodded. "Right. You're supposed to keep me from falling asleep."

 

Wesley sat back down on the bed. "How would you suggest I do that?"

 

Faith gave him a sultry smile. "I'm sure we can come up with a plan."


	8. Chapter 8

Connor looked up from his comic book as Angel wandered downstairs. He was the first to emerge. Fred had called to let them know she was going to be out all night, Faith and Wesley were both still in her room, and Spike had disappeared after their return last night. Connor could sense him inside the hotel, but he understood the need to be alone.

 

Angel came to a stop in front of him, leaning on the counter. "Fred back yet?"

 

"I haven't seen her," Connor replied. "She said she was staying with her friend."

 

"Yeah." Angel seemed to consider that for a moment. "What are you reading?"

 

Connor held up the comic book so Angel could see the title. "I'm running out."

 

Angel frowned, remembering the comic book shop they'd gone to after Fred's professor had tried to kill her. "Do you want to get more?"

 

He shrugged, struggling to hold back the excitement that bubbled up. Connor had a feeling that Holtz wouldn't approve of comics; they distracted him from his true mission. On the other hand, Connor had no desire to give them up, and Holtz wasn't around anymore to care.

 

Holtz wasn't around because he'd essentially committed suicide.

 

"It doesn't matter."

 

"If you want more comics, it matters," Angel replied. "Connor, you know if you need anything, all you have to do is ask. If I can get it for you, I will."

 

He nodded. "I know."

 

"Do you want to go to the comic store?" Angel asked persistently.

 

Connor hesitated, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Being here, staying here—Connor didn't know if it was the right choice, but he didn't see that he could do anything else.

 

And he wanted to try. Connor wanted to make this work with a wordless longing impossible to define.

 

"I guess that would be okay."

 

Angel's face broke out into a smile. "Great. Let me get my coat."

 

Connor cast a pointed look towards the doors, where the sunlight was still visible.

 

"I know a shortcut," Angel assured him.

 

Connor watched him go before turning back to his book, his fingers caressing the flimsy pages. It was so easy to lose himself inside, to find himself elsewhere for a time, where no one tried to lie to him.

 

It was why he enjoyed Faith and Spike's company so much. They'd both been honest with him from the very beginning, completely straightforward.

 

The big question was whether or not he could trust his father to do the same.

 

~~~~~

 

"Angel!" The kid looked like he'd just won the lottery. Connor watched as his father shook out his coat, the smoke just beginning to rise. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

 

"Hey." Angel sounded uncomfortable. "I brought my son. I thought you could help him find what he needs."

 

The boy's eyes widened. "You have a kid?" He stared at Connor, then shook himself, as though remembering that he was there to sell comics, not to gawk at the potential customers. "Your friend isn't going to come in and threaten to beat me up, is he?"

 

"Why did you try to beat him up, Dad?" Connor asked, knowing that he'd make Angel squirm with the question.

 

Sure enough, Angel shifted uncomfortably. "There was some trouble with Fred's professor, back when she and Gunn were dating. And it wasn’t me, it was Gunn who did the threatening."

 

Back when Connor wasn't talking to anyone except for Cordelia. He shrugged. "Oh." Turning to the kid, he asked, "Do you have any with Wolverine?"

 

The kid snorted. "Are you kidding me? Which one are you looking for?"

 

Connor shook his head. "I don't know. I've only read a couple. I want to get caught up."

 

He raised his eyebrows. "Have you been living under a rock?"

 

"Hell dimension," Connor replied with a straight face.

 

To his credit, the kid just nodded. "That would do it. Come on, I'll show you what we've got."

 

Connor followed the kid—whose name was Aaron, he discovered. Aaron happily gave him the rundown on the best comics to purchase, which would be the best investments, and the best place to jump into the storyline. "You can find a lot of information online, if you want to get caught up," Aaron explained.

 

"Online?"

 

"On the internet?"

 

Connor frowned, finally nodding. He figured Fred would probably help him out there. Or maybe Spike, who seemed to be a little savvier about technology than Angel was. "Okay."

 

Aaron happily fielded his questions about the various superheroes Connor had been reading about, obviously enjoying his role as mentor. "Come by anytime," Aaron invited after he'd sold Connor a stack of comics and graphic novels. "If you have questions or anything like that."

 

By the time they headed back to the Hyperion, it was dark enough for them to avoid taking the sewers. Connor suddenly realized that Angel had spent an entire afternoon watching him talk to a stranger, without trying to rush him or interrupt. "Thanks," he blurted out, feeling like it needed to be said.

 

"For what?" Angel asked.

 

"You know. For going with me and everything." Connor hesitated, deciding that he didn't mind saying it. "I had a good time."

 

"Really?" Angel asked hopefully. "Do you, uh, want to get something to eat?"

 

Connor thought longingly about his new comics, and then shrugged. "Sure. I could eat."

 

~~~~~

 

Angel took him to a diner and watched him eat his burger and fries. At first, Connor had felt awkward eating while Angel looked on. With Holtz, once he was old enough to do the hunting for them, Connor ensured that Holtz ate first, and only then would he eat. Although Connor knew that vampires didn't eat regular food—unless the vampire was Spike—it was harder to be watched.

 

These days, Connor didn't think about it too much. He supposed he was getting used to being around the vampire, used to the idea that Angel didn't eat and wouldn't age, that he couldn't go out during the day. If someone had told him that he would someday be used to having a couple of vampires around, Connor probably would have killed them just on principle.

 

He'd devoured half his meal before Angel's voice broke the silence. "Can I ask you a question?"

 

Connor paused in his eating, casting a wary glance across the table. He didn't like the tone of Angel's voice, and he thought it a good possibility that he wasn't going to like the question either. They didn't speak much as a rule. He and Angel fought side-by-side, they hunted together, but they didn't talk.

 

Neither one of them was much for words anyway.

 

"Okay."

 

"Are you happy here?"

 

"I'm fine," Connor replied quickly, his mind shying away from actually thinking about the question. He didn't want to think about it, and he was quite sure that Angel didn't want him to think about it either. His father didn't want the truth; it would hurt too much.

 

Strangely, Connor had no real desire to hurt him anymore.

 

"No, Connor," Angel said, coaxing him. "I want to know."

 

Connor looked away, glancing around the diner with its scattered patrons. He wondered if any of them had noticed that Angel hadn't reflected against the windows when they walked inside, or if the waitress had known why the vampire had requested a booth against the wall rather than next to one of the front windows.

 

It wasn't an easy question to answer. Connor wasn't _un_ happy here. There were some things he appreciated about L.A., like the food—burgers and fries, junk food—and comic books. When he remembered to relax, Connor appreciated the fact that he could. He liked being able to go back to the hotel, knowing that it was a safe place for the most part. It was nice to have other people around, people to talk to, to spar with.

 

Being here was harder, too, though. Harder in a way he wasn't certain he'd ever understand. How did you unlearn eighteen years' worth of instincts? How did you learn to read the shades of gray, to know what was right and what was wrong?

 

There had been no questions in Quortoth, only imperatives. Connor missed that sometimes.

 

"I'm happy, Dad," Connor said, the title coming easier now. "It was just easier there."

 

Confusion crossed Angel's face, but he didn't try to argue. "Easier how?"

 

"Simpler," Connor clarified, not knowing how else to say it, and not wanting to explain. If Angel didn't understand, he never would.

 

That seemed to clear things up, because Angel's face cleared. "Kill or be killed. It is easier," he agreed, his tone nostalgic.

 

Relief flowed through him as Connor realized that maybe Angel did understand. "Yeah." He cocked his head. "You know?"

 

"When we went to Pylea," Angel clarified. "To get Cordelia back. I was a hero there, and everything was black and white. There were good guys and bad guys."

 

"What happened?"

 

"They asked me to kill Fred," Angel replied. "And suddenly it wasn't quite as easy as I had thought."

 

Connor thought about Holtz asking him to kill Angel. Setting him up to kill Angel, really. "Yeah. It's never that easy, is it?"

 

"No. It never is."

 

Connor thought of Cordelia, of loving her. Of walking away, knowing that Angel was going to kill her and the child they'd created together.

 

He'd done the right thing. He knew that now; he'd just never realized how much it would hurt.

 

"Sometimes I wish…" Connor trailed off, not wanting to say the words out loud. Not wanting Angel to know that there were days he wished he'd never left Quortoth, when clarity was more important than anything else.

 

"I know."

 

Nothing more needed to be said.

 

~~~~~

 

"What are you up to, kid?"

 

Connor glanced up from the TV, feeling the familiar bolt of desire go through him at the sight of Faith. Even though he knew she was with Wesley, he'd have to be blind not to notice how attractive she was.

 

Besides, now that he'd had a taste of what sex could be like, Connor wouldn't be opposed to trying it out again.

 

Still, he knew that Faith had no interest in him, and Connor wasn't interested in experiencing rejection. He just wished he knew some way to get a girl to look at him twice.

 

Other than rescuing her from vampires. That only worked so many times, and there wasn't a guarantee that she'd be interested in him afterwards.

 

"Watching a movie."

 

Faith plopped down in the other chair, propping her feet up on the edge of the table the television was on. "What superhero are we watching tonight?"

 

"It was with Cordelia's stuff."

 

The explanation was necessary, as the movie was not Connor's usual fare. He preferred movies with plenty of action, and _Clueless_ wasn't it. Connor had decided that it might be helpful to get some idea of what girls his age liked, although he wasn't sure this particular film was the best choice for background research.

 

Faith snorted as soon as she recognized the movie. "It would have to belong to Cordelia. Nobody else around here would watch it."

 

Connor could feel his face flush. "I didn't have anything else to watch."

 

She glanced over at him and then ruffled his hair in a friendly manner. "I'm giving you a hard time, Connor."

 

He reached out to shut the movie off, suddenly uninterested. It was a stupid movie anyway, and there didn't seem to be much point in it. Connor wasn't normal; he never would be normal. To think that he would ever be able to attract a normal girl was just—stupid.

 

"Okay, what's that about?" Faith asked. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

 

"I'm fine," Connor replied, knowing that he sounded surly. They thought of him as a kid, as though he didn't know what was going on, or how they looked at him. He knew. He couldn't help but know.

 

After all, Holtz had taught him to pay attention to everything in his environment. It was second nature to take in the reactions of those around him.

 

"What's wrong?" Spike's head poked through the door, and Connor was suddenly pissed off. Enraged, with no good reason why, except that everyone always wanted to know how he felt and what he was thinking. How the hell was he supposed to answer when _he_ didn't even know most of the time?

 

"Nothing!" Connor let his feet take him where they would—out of the room, up the stairs, all the way up to the roof. The night air was soothing, the breeze playing with his hair. He felt like an idiot as soon as he had a moment to think. Someone would probably come after him now, want to know what his problem was. They'd want him to talk about it.

 

Except that it was Spike and Faith, so maybe not. They tended to let him be when he was out of sorts. It was one of the reasons Connor liked being with them so much.

 

"Nice night."

 

Spike's voice floated across the distance. Connor stiffened and then relaxed when no questions were forthcoming. "Yeah. I guess."

 

"I like coming up here. It's peaceful. Helps me get my head sorted out." Spike's voice was conciliatory. "Faith told me to apologize for her. She said she was giving you a hard time."

 

"It's not a big deal." Connor glanced up. There were no stars in Los Angeles. It seemed wrong, to look up and see nothing but a handful of dim pinpoints of light. Everything felt wrong tonight.

 

Spike stood next to him, hands in his pockets as he looked up. "Remind me to take you out to the desert sometime. You can actually see the stars there. Millions of them. A hundred years ago, you could see even more than that."

 

Connor glanced over at him. "What's it like?"

 

"What's that?"

 

"Living forever?"

 

"Dunno. Haven't lived that long."

 

"You know what I mean."

 

Spike frowned thoughtfully, obviously weighing Connor's question. "Hard to say, really. You don't know what it feels like until a few decades pass and you're still around, still the same as you were before. Time passes differently." The silence stretched out between them, but it was comfortable—an easy sort of quiet. "You want to talk about it?"

 

"Not really."

 

"Alright."

 

Connor suddenly turned to face him. "How do you get a girl to like you?"

 

Spike's expression didn't change. There was no sign of amusement. "I don't know."

 

Connor was certain that Spike was making fun of him. "Yeah. Right."

 

"No, I'm serious. I have no idea." Connor heard him sigh. "Look, the last couple women I liked ended up either running away from me or nearly killing me, so I don't think I'm the best person to ask. As far as women liking me is concerned, my record's spotty at best."

 

"So it doesn't get any easier?"

 

"Not if you're me." Spike did sound amused now, but Connor knew it was more as a result of a shared joke than one made at his expense. "What brought this on?"

 

Connor shook his head, unable to explain. Other than what his life's purpose was going to be, the opposite sex was the primary thing on his mind at any point in time.

 

Spike laughed softly. "Stupid question, huh? You're a teenager, and you're male. You don't need an excuse."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Wish I knew what to tell you, Connor."

 

"It's okay," he replied, and suddenly—in one of the rapid mood swings that not even he understood—it really was.

 

Tonight it would be enough to stand out on the roof, under the stars, with someone he could call a friend. Everything else could wait.


	9. Chapter 9

Fred listened with some amusement as Spike instructed Connor on the art of picking up women. Although she'd tagged along to provide a female point of view, Spike seemed to be doing just fine on his own.

 

"Okay, you see that group over there?" Spike asked.

 

They had gone to one of the area malls with the hope that Connor would find kids his own age to spend some time with. That was the only part of the plan Fred wasn't so sure about. While Spike might be able to walk up to a group of people and insinuate himself in minutes, Connor didn't have the same kind of people-skills.

 

Of course, that was why Spike was giving him pointers, and why Angel hadn't been invited. Spike had commented that Angel wouldn't know how to pick up a pretty girl if she'd thrown herself at his feet, which had made Fred giggle, although she didn't think the other vampire was as hopeless as all that.

 

"Yeah," Connor replied, focusing on the group of adolescents about his own age. Fred counted five girls and four boys, and when she saw the girl on the edge of the group, she began to see why Spike had chosen this particular knot of kids.

 

"You go over there, ask the girl if you can sit at her table. There aren't so many open seats that she'll get suspicious," Spike instructed.

 

"Then what?" Connor asked.

 

"Make small talk," Spike replied. "Introduce yourself. Ask her what she likes to do." Spike placed a friendly hand on Connor's shoulder, leaning in to speak softly.

 

His words were too quiet for Fred to make out, so she contented herself with watching their interchange. She marveled at Spike's ability to deal with Connor. Where Angel often caused Connor to bristle, Spike could soothe. It had made such a difference in all their interactions.

 

Spike had made such a difference.

 

Fred could recognize the growing signs of a crush in herself. It was hard not to feel something for the vampire. He was handsome, and brave, and loyal, and a good listener. Waking up next to him just a few days before had merely sharpened her desire. She really liked him, and as much more than just a friend.

 

She also knew that Spike didn't feel that way about her at all.

 

Spike sent Connor off with a clap on the shoulder, and Fred watched as he ambled casually over to the tables of teens. "What did you tell him?" she asked.

 

He glanced over, his face relaxed for once with pleasure and good humor. A smile curved his lips. "Told him what to look out for. Connor's a predator. He knows what to do. He just has to learn his tricks on a different sort of prey."

 

Fred frowned. "I hope you didn't tell him that girls were—”

 

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch," Spike said, holding up a hand. "Just meant…" He trailed off, then came around to stand behind her, his mouth close to her ear, gently showing her what he saw. "You see the girl sitting across from Connor?" At her nod, he continued. "Look at the way she's sitting. She's shy, and she's alone. The rest of them are paired up. Connor tried to talk to them, he might succeed with the girls, but he'd piss off the other boys. That's not the point. That girl, though, she'll be the happier for some attention from a stranger, and Connor gets an easy conversation to build his confidence the first time out."

 

Fred watched as Connor said something, and the girl blushed and then laughed, looking away and then back at him. Seeing them, she was reminded of her own early flirtations, how awkward and strange it had been. Wanting so much more and yet not knowing what to expect or how she'd know when she'd found it.

 

Things hadn't really changed all that much. She still wanted more, and she still had no idea how to get it.

 

"Let's go," Spike suggested. "We'll let Connor and his new friends get acquainted before we play the evil guardians and haul him off."

 

Spike guided her with a hand on her back, and Fred leaned into him slightly. She missed this—missed the feel of a man's hands on her. She hadn't lied when she told Spike she missed waking up in a man's arms.

 

She also hadn't failed to notice the look on his face—the one that said he couldn't believe she would feel safe with him.

 

Fred regretted the loss of contact when Spike shoved his hands in his pockets. "It was really nice of you to do this."

 

He shrugged, uncomfortable with praise as always. "Boy needed someone to show him the ropes. Peaches certainly wouldn't do it." Spike gave her a wry smile. "Not that he'd be much good at it."

 

Fred giggled. Then, feeling greatly daring, she tucked her hand through the crook of his arm. She didn't meet his eyes when he glanced over, too afraid of what she'd find there. Instead, Fred felt his hand come to rest over hers, and she wondered at the coolness of his skin. Not for the first time did she wonder about the metaphysics behind a demon occupying a human's body.

 

Vampires needed blood—obviously—but what was it about blood that kept the demon going? Was there a particular reason they needed blood? Did it circulate normally? What space did the demon occupy? Was it actually inside the body in a physical sense, or was it purely metaphysical?

 

"You're thinking pretty hard there."

 

"Sorry," Fred apologized, Spike's voice bringing her out of her musings. "I was just wondering. About vampires."

 

"What do you want to know?" Spike asked.

 

Fred opened her mouth to ask a question, and then shut it again. That sort of thing piqued her curiosity, but it wasn't what she really wanted to find out. She wanted to know about Spike, whether he was really going to stay in L.A.

 

She wanted to know if he liked her. If he ever would.

 

"It's no big deal." Fred smiled at him. "I was just wondering about some of the metaphysical stuff, and how they would fit into some of my theories on…" She trailed off. "You probably don't want to hear them."

 

"Your theories?" Spike asked. "Try me."

 

"Are you sure? It's kind of complicated. Gunn's eyes always used to glaze over." Fred winced as she realized how that sounded. "Not to say that he was mean about it or anything like that. Almost everybody's eyes glaze over when I'm talking quantum physics."

 

"You miss him?"

 

"Who? Gunn?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Sometimes," Fred admitted. "We were so close, you know? Charles was my best friend, and then he was just gone. We don't even talk anymore."

 

Spike gave her an earnest look. "He was a stupid wanker for leaving you."

 

"I think we left each other." Fred sighed, thinking back to those days. About the distance that had sprung up between them. Neither of them had known what to say to make it better. Fred sometimes wondered if Gunn had hated her just a little for forcing him to kill Professor Seidell. Not that she had _forced_ him, but she had put him in a position where Gunn felt he had no choice.

 

"He was still stupid for leaving," Spike said stubbornly.

 

Fred wondered if she dared to ask the question. "Are you going back?"

 

Apparently, she did dare.

 

Spike didn't ask what she meant. He seemed to know exactly what she was referring to. "No. Not for anything."

 

"If you love her…" Fred trailed off, hating to even say it. She didn't want to be jealous of Buffy, not again. Back when she'd had a crush on Angel, Fred had been envious of Buffy's place in his heart. It seemed as though she would be in that position again.

 

Spike sighed. "I used to think it was that easy. Used to think that if you just loved someone enough, they wouldn't have a choice but to love you back. Used to think a lot of things."

 

"And now?"

 

"Now? Now I know it doesn't work that way." Spike met her eyes, and Fred was just as entranced by their brilliance this time as she'd been the first. "I'm staying. I've got more reasons for being here than I've got for being in Sunnydale, and Buffy isn't enough anymore. Don't know when that happened, but it did."

 

Fred nodded, not knowing what else to say, and not willing to make a fool out of herself. She wanted to tell him that she was glad, that she wanted him here, but she thought that might be too forward.

 

"Fred, you're part of the reason I'm staying."

 

She could feel herself blush, and she managed to murmur, "That's good to know."

 

~~~~~

 

"So, have you jumped his bones yet?"

 

The question made her start a bit, not least because Fred had been thinking about it. She wondered what it said that she knew exactly who Faith was referring to. Still, Fred wasn’t about to admit it out loud. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Oh, come on,” Faith replied, straddling the chair next to the computer, behind the desk in the hotel lobby. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about screwing Spike. He’s sex on two legs.”

 

The guys had scattered to the far corners of the hotel, leaving Fred to man the phones while trying to balance the books. Keeping a budget wasn’t exactly her strong suit, but she and Wesley usually took turns, and it was hers. Faith had just come in from running a few errands, and had apparently decided to grill Fred about Spike.

 

In a way, Fred missed this. Not that she and Cordelia had ever indulged in much girl talk, but they’d had their share of conversations away from the guys. Faith wasn’t really the type, though, and Fred hadn’t talked to much of anybody before Spike came.

 

Of course, nobody had been doing much talking.

 

“I haven’t thought about screwing Spike,” Fred replied primly. Which was, technically, true. She hadn’t thought about “screwing” Spike, but she had given more than passing consideration to going to bed with him.

 

To making love with him.

 

Faith grinned. “You’re holding out for true love.”

 

“I’m not—”

 

“It’s okay!” Faith said, holding up her hands. “To each her own. I just think that if he gives you the opportunity, you should jump his bones. A ride like that only comes around once a century.” She paused. “On second thought, don’t wait for him to give you the opportunity. Take it.”

 

“We’re just friends,” Fred said uncomfortably. “I don’t even know that Spike likes me all that much.”

 

Faith’s eyes gentled a bit. “You should see the way he watches you when you come in a room. His eyes light up. Trust me, he likes you.”

 

Fred wanted to believe her, but it sounded too good to be true. “The way Wesley looks at you?”

 

Faith snorted. “Wesley and I aren’t like that.”

 

“Really?” Fred asked, pleased to be able to turn the tables on the other woman. “He never stays at the hotel anymore unless he absolutely has to—or you’re here. I think he likes you.”

 

Faith shrugged. “We have a thing. It’s no big deal. You know, it’s casual.”

 

“What if it’s not?”

 

Faith appeared taken aback by that question, and she paused. “It’s better if it’s casual,” she replied. “It doesn’t hurt as much when they screw you over.”

 

Fred thought of Gunn, and it twisted in her gut. What they had shared hadn’t been casual. She had loved him so much. “Yeah. I guess so.”

 

“Hey, don’t listen to me,” Faith said suddenly. “I mean, sometimes you get a chance at a forever kind of thing, right?”

 

“Why wouldn’t you get that kind of chance, Faith?” Fred asked. “Not that it would have to be with Wesley, but it could happen.”

 

Faith didn’t look convinced. “For girls like you maybe.”

 

“I don’t believe that,” Fred said staunchly.

 

Faith’s lips curved into a smile. “You’re okay, you know that?

 

Fred felt a sudden flood of affection for the other woman. They had nothing in common, really. They didn’t like the same things, and their backgrounds were nearly polar opposites. Fred would always be the bookish one, and Faith would always be the action girl. But they were still women, navigating a world of men. Trying to figure out what their places were, where they might be going. “You too,” Fred replied.

 

Faith stood. “You hungry? Because I’m starving, and I have a feeling I’m going to need to keep my energy up for patrol tonight.” She grinned wickedly. “Not to mention for after patrol.”

 

Fred wished she could say the same, but she was hungry. “Sure. Maybe we could get tacos? I’ve had a craving for them for the last couple days.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Faith replied. “I’m so hungry, I could eat anything.”

 

~~~~~

 

The noise woke her up. Fred didn’t hesitate—dashing out of bed in her tank top and shorts, right next door to Spike’s room. They had put him next to her on purpose, thinking she would look out for him. Now, Fred was grateful for his proximity, because she just liked being close to him.

 

Even if he never _liked_ her, it would be okay. Spike had taken Charles’ place as her best friend, and that’s what she’d been craving most.

 

Spike was awake by the time she entered the room, and Fred shut the door behind her softly. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Spike grunted. “Was just a nightmare.”

 

The way he said it, Fred was certain that he meant her to take it as her cue to leave. She remembered Faith’s words, however, and although she wasn’t prepared to jump him, Fred wasn’t going to leave him either. “Maybe I should stay. Just until you fall asleep again.”

 

“If you want,” he replied, but she could hear the gratitude in his tone.

 

“I want.”

 

She sat down on the edge of his bed, the darkness granting her the courage to reach out for his hand. Fred could just make out the pale outline. Spike’s grip tightened, then moved so that their fingers entwined. “You could lie down, you know.”

 

Fred felt more bereft than she should have when Spike released her hand so she could make herself comfortable beside him. She relaxed again immediately when his arm draped over her stomach, and she intertwined their fingers again. It felt important to take every advantage she could.

 

Spike was staying, but he didn’t need her so much anymore, and while that wasn’t a bad thing, Fred wondered. Did he still need her the same way she needed friends? Did he feel their connection? Or was it just wishful thinking on her part?

 

Spike’s arm tightened around her. “Go to sleep, luv.”

 

Fred slept sweetly that night, in spite of the questions that lay heavy on her heart.


	10. Chapter 10

Angel hadn’t known what to think when he’d seen Fred coming out of Spike’s room that morning. He’d known that it was a possibility. Fred had once had a crush on him, and so Angel recognized that she didn’t have a problem with the fact that Spike was a vampire.

 

If he was going to get upset, Angel supposed he was as much to blame as anyone else. After all, he had been the one to tell Fred to look after Spike, and vice versa.

 

Still, it concerned him.

 

Angel brooded about it all day, turning the situation over in his mind, trying to figure out who he should speak to, if anyone. Nothing really penetrated until Connor stuck his head into the office. “I’m going out.”

 

Momentarily gratified that Connor had even thought to let him know, Angel couldn’t help but be curious as to what his son was up to. “Where to? Do you want some company?”

 

Connor flushed. “Dad—” He sounded more like a teenager in that moment than ever before. “It’s kind of a date.”

 

“A date?” Angel sat up straight. “With who?”

 

“A girl I met at the mall the other day,” Connor replied. “We’re going to the movies.”

 

“What’s her name?” Angel asked suspiciously, feeling as though this was happening too quickly. Cordelia would have known what to say, but he had no clue.

 

Connor shrugged. “Her name is Sarah.”

 

It was a perfectly normal name. Probably attached to a perfectly normal girl. “You met her at the mall? When was this?”

 

“Spike and Fred took me to the mall,” Connor admitted reluctantly. “He and Fred went off on their own, and I met some other kids. They were nice. Sarah’s nice.”

 

“How are you getting there?” Angel asked.

 

Connor shifted uncomfortably. “I’m going to get there how I usually get there. I have to go, or I’m going to be late.”

 

Angel dug around in his pocket, pulling out his wallet, handing Connor two bills. “Make sure you pay for the movie. Girls expect that. And if you need a ride home, call the hotel. Someone will be here.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” Connor insisted, but Angel thought he heard a pleased note in his son’s voice.

 

Angel smiled, almost unwillingly. His son wasn’t a baby; Connor was a young man. Dating. As long as he was happy, though. That’s all Angel could ask for. “I know you can.”

 

“Thanks, Dad,” Connor said, dashing out the door before Angel could reply.

 

Spike came swaggering into the office a few minutes later. “Your boy stop in and see you?”

 

Angel glared at him, although it was more out of habit than any real malice at this point. “Your doing, I suppose?”

 

“I gave him a few pointers and pushed him in the right direction,” Spike replied. “He needs to be around people his own age, Angel. He’s just a kid.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“So why isn’t he in school?”

 

“School?” Angel asked blankly. “Are you serious? You do realize that it’s just been within the last few months that he’s actually spoken to me, right?”

 

“Kids should be in school.”

 

“I was working up to it.”

 

“He’s not going to be a kid forever.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Angel demanded. “A little over a year ago, I was changing his diapers, and now he’s dating!”

 

Spike gave him a look that was full of sympathy. Angel could hardly believe it. “I’m sorry. That must have hurt.”

 

“More than you can imagine.”

 

“You’d be surprised,” Spike murmured.

 

Angel leaned back in his chair. “Why haven’t you gone back to Sunnydale, Spike?” At the hurt that flashed across his face, Angel added, “I’m not saying I want you to go. It’s just—I know how you feel about Buffy, and you aren’t one to give up.”

 

“No, I’m not,” Spike agreed. “I didn’t give up, Angelus. I changed.”

 

“The soul?”

 

“Hurts like a bitch,” Spike said. Angel knew exactly what he meant. “It’s also allowed me to see some things I didn’t particularly care to look at before.” He shrugged, a graceful gesture. “I’m not what I was.”

 

“I know.” He could see Spike’s gratitude at his acknowledgment. It was so little, and yet that was all Spike had ever really wanted from him. Theirs was a complicated relationship, filled with as much love as hate, as much rivalry as affection. “Which is why I’m not going to tell you to be careful with Fred.”

 

“Peaches…”

 

The warning in Spike’s tone had Angel holding up his hands in surrender. “Did I say anything?”

 

“I think you just did,” Spike said. “And it’s not like that.”  


“I saw her coming out of your room this morning.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Spike repeated stubbornly, and Angel knew that he’d say no more on the subject. When Spike used that tone of voice there was no reasoning with him.

 

“I didn’t say it was,” Angel replied. “Which is why I’m not warning you off.”

 

“It wouldn’t work if you tried.”

 

“I know.” Angel hesitated. For the first time in a long time, he had no desire to interfere in Spike’s relationship. If Spike and Fred hit it off, the only thing Angel was concerned about was that Fred didn’t get hurt.

 

Needless to say, he wasn’t terribly concerned about Spike.

 

“You don’t have to worry.”

 

Angel smiled. “Spike, I always worry.”

 

Call him crazy, but Angel was glad that Spike wasn’t leaving, that there would be one more thing tying him to L.A. Things had gotten better since Spike’s arrival, and maybe that was mere coincidence, maybe it was just that they’d all begun to move on, but that didn’t negate the fact that if Spike were to leave, it would leave a hole.

 

They had lost enough members of the team. They didn’t need to lose any others.

 

~~~~~

 

“Have you heard about Spike and Fred?” Wesley asked casually.

 

Wesley was dragging him to another client meeting, although Angel could honestly say that he felt a little more interested now than he had in the past. Spike had reminded him that Connor still needed things, just as he had when he was a baby. It was in Connor’s best interests if he made the agency a success. Wesley had been doing his best, but it might be time for Angel to take more of an interest.

 

In short, Angel was beginning to feel as though life might go on without Cordelia, although he didn’t know what to think about that.

 

Angel shook his head. “How does word spread so fast?”

 

“We’re a very small, very tight-knit group, Angel,” Wesley reminded him. “And Faith saw Fred going into Spike’s room last night.”

 

“I thought she was staying with you.”

 

“Not last night,” Wesley replied. “Then I take it you heard.”

 

“I saw Fred come out of Spike’s room.” Angel decided to turn the tables. “So how are you and Faith?”

 

“We’re fine, Angel,” Wesley said. “I’m not sure that it’s any of your business, either way.”

 

“You’re both friends, Wes,” Angel reminded him. “And I don’t want to lose either of you.”

 

“I don’t think our relationship is like that,” Wesley replied. He sighed. “Although, to be honest, I’m not sure _what_ our relationship is like.”

 

“You love her.” Angel didn’t bother phrasing it as a question. He knew the signs when he saw them, and Wesley was beginning to care deeply for the Slayer if he wasn’t already head over heels.

 

He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at that, knowing that they would pair up and move on, all of them. Even Spike, who had always been part of a duo or a team. Angel, on the other hand, had been alone for a long time before L.A., before Buffy. He had hoped, with Cordelia, that he would find someone to share at least a part of his unlife with, but it was obviously not to be.

 

Wesley shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s not that easy.”

 

“It never is.”

 

Angel decided not to say anything else. As Wesley had said, it was none of his business.

 

~~~~~

 

He wanted to be casual about it. In fact, Angel knew that he _had_ to be casual about it. Broach the subject too abruptly, and Connor wouldn’t give him any details at all. So he made sure he was in his office with the light on when his son got home, hoping that Connor would come in on his own.

 

Pretending to read while keeping one eye on Connor, he waited to see what the boy would do. Connor made it halfway up the stairs, and then he turned around and came back down. “Hey,” he said, sticking his head into Angel’s office.

 

“Hi. How was the date?”

 

“Good.” Connor paused. “A little weird.”

 

Angel leaned back in his chair. He wanted Connor to believe that he was available, that he wanted to listen. He wanted Connor to understand that he loved him. Angel wondered if he knew—really knew.

 

Somehow, Angel wasn’t so sure that Connor did understand. Of course, it was only now, as a father himself, that he could begin to understand his own father’s actions where he was concerned. The old man had loved him, had done his best by him in his own way. That was all any of them could ever do—their best.

 

There were so many regrets that Angel had. He wished he had told Cordelia he loved her sooner. He wished he hadn’t lied to Connor about going to see Holtz. He wished that he’d been able to forgive Wesley sooner, that he’d understood.

 

Things were so different now. Angel had wanted so many things—to be with Cordelia, to see Connor grow up, to watch his friends be happy and grow old. He wouldn’t get what he wanted, but he might be able to make something good out of what life had left him.

 

“Weird how?” Angel asked, wanting to extend his support.

 

Connor slumped in the chair. “She wanted to talk about me. About my family and everything. I didn’t know what to tell her.”

 

“What did you tell her?” Angel asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

 

“I told her that I lived with my foster father in Africa until last year, when I came to live with my biological father.” Connor smiled wryly. “Spike suggested the cover story. He said it would be easier to explain the social faux pas I was going to make.”

 

Angel couldn’t disagree with that idea. “What did you say about your mom?”

 

“That she died giving birth to me.” Connor sighed. “I think that’s what made it weird. She didn’t say much after that, and then the movie started, and we didn’t really get a chance to talk since her dad was picking her up right after.”

 

Angel was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “It’s kind of a sad story, Connor. I’m sure she just didn’t know what to say.”

 

“Is every girl going to be like that?” Connor asked. “Am I going to have to lie to everybody?”

 

Angel didn’t want to tell him the truth. He didn’t want to say that yes, Connor would most likely have to lie for the rest of his life. That there would be very few people who would be able to handle knowing who and what he was, and that it was a lonely life. Instead, he just said, “No, not everybody, but most people. They wouldn’t understand.”

 

“How do you do it?” Connor asked.

 

Angel shrugged. “You get used to it after awhile. You find people who know you, and then it doesn’t matter so much. You make a family.”

 

“That’s not my world.” The boy looked down at his hands. “It’s never going to be my world.”

 

“You don’t know that.” Angel could hear the intensity in his tone. “Give it time.”

 

“How much time?”

 

“I don’t know.” He wanted to give him something more than that. “You know I’m always here for you, right? The door is always open.”

 

Connor rose to his feet in one fluid motion. “Thanks.”

 

Angel held in a sigh as Connor went to leave, feeling as though he hadn’t gotten through yet again. He knew that this was what he needed to do—to continually tell Connor the truth, that he loved him, that he was here. One of these days, maybe Connor would believe it.

 

Cordelia would have understood. She would have been right there with him.

 

Oh, how he missed her.

 

Connor paused in the doorway. “Dad?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Angel watched him go, wondering for the hundredth time how a boy so beautiful could have come from him.

 

He was still lost in his thoughts when Fred stuck her head through the door. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I was just waiting up for Connor.”

 

“He came in awhile ago,” Fred informed him. “Didn’t you see him?”

 

“We talked,” Angel replied. “What are you still doing up?”

 

She shrugged, coming into the office and sitting down across from him. “I couldn’t really sleep. I finally decided that maybe I could get something done besides tossing and turning. Wesley said he needed some help on the research for the Ellis file.”

 

“You should get Spike to help you with that,” Angel said. “He’s a lot better at the research than he likes to pretend.”

 

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Are we talking about the same vampire? Because he told me he was allergic to Latin.”

 

Angel’s lips twitched. “Spike just doesn’t like sitting still all that much. He knows his Greek and Latin, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew a few other languages and just refuses to admit it.”

 

“What was he like?” Fred asked. “Before the soul. I’ve seen Angelus, and I wouldn’t want a repeat, but I’ve been wondering what Spike would be like if the soul got loose, because that’s a little scary. I mean, if he lost his soul, would he come after me, or—”

 

Angel shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, Fred. Once Spike decides to do something, there’s nothing that’s going to stand in his way of getting it done.”

 

“You almost sound like you admire him,” Fred stated. “I thought you’d…” She trailed off, obviously unwilling to voice what she thought Angel might do.

 

“You thought I’d tell you to stay away from him?” Angel asked. “Would it do any good?”

 

“Not really,” Fred admitted. “Besides, we’re just friends.”

 

“Is that all you want?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Angel thought it was odd, to sit here talking to Fred about a man she liked—a vampire she liked, to be more specific. The fact that it was Spike made it that much stranger. At the same time, it felt right. He and Fred had a special relationship. In a very real way, she had saved him in Pylea, just as much as he’d saved her.

 

Angel wanted her to be happy, and he’d seen what Gunn’s leaving had done. No, what the last year had done. They had all been hurt, and hurt badly.

 

They had all been left reeling and directionless, and Angel recalled Fred’s words, that she wished that she could be like Cordelia, that she was sorry she couldn’t have pulled them all together.

 

“I know things have changed a lot around here,” Angel began tentatively. “But I wanted to thank you for staying. We wouldn’t have survived around here without you.”

 

Fred flushed deeply. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

 

“I meant it.” Angel waited until she met his eyes, and then he smiled. “I’m really glad you stayed.”

 

Although she didn’t say anything, Angel could tell from the expression on her face that she believed him, and it gave him hope.

 

If he just kept trying, maybe—someday—it would work itself out, and Angel would have what he wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

Faith looked in the mirror, feeling like a fake. This wasn’t her. She had no idea why she was even attempting this. She looked like an idiot.

 

The wolf whistle from the doorway had her turning to see Spike giving her an admiring stare. “Gotta say, you clean up nice, pet.”

 

Faith turned back to her reflection. “I don’t know, Spike. Do I have time to change?”

 

“No, you don’t. Fred’s already yelled at me for dragging my feet. You’re not going to get away with doing the same.”

 

She took a deep breath. The makeup was the same—dark and dramatic, just as she liked it. It was the clothing that had changed. Maybe she was still in heavy black boots, but they went up to her knees, stopping several inches short of her skirt. The black sweater was skin-tight, and the overall effect was probably not that different than her usual look, but…

 

“You look fine.”

 

Faith turned to Spike, who was watching her with a measure of amusement mixed with compassion. “I haven’t worn one of these in years.”

 

“You’re out of practice,” he suggested. “Give it a bit, and you’ll settle into your skin again.”

 

She nodded, checking her hair one more time before following Spike out of her room. “Do you think—” Faith stopped herself, not wanting to give too much away.

 

“If his jaw doesn’t hit the floor, I’ll be surprised,” Spike assured her, knowing what she was asking without her having to go into details.

 

That’s what Faith liked about Spike. He was always very clear on where you stood with him, and quick on the uptake. There was no need for a lot of detail or long, drawn-out explanations.

 

“Fred, too,” she said, referring to the fact that Spike had dressed in something other than clothing filched from Connor. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that Angel had finally unclenched his fist enough to start paying Spike a salary.

 

Although, Faith would be willing to bet that it had been Fred who had talked Spike into spending some of that money on clothing.

 

Spike tugged at the collar of his blue shirt, revealing the black t-shirt he was wearing underneath. “Yeah, well…”

 

“She likes you, you know,” Faith said, teasing.

 

Spike looked even more uncomfortable. “It’s just a thing,” he said dismissively. “It’ll pass.”

 

“How do you know if you don’t give it a real chance?” Faith retorted, not knowing where this was coming from. She wasn’t the type to go around handing out free advice. Faith liked Fred, though, and wouldn’t mind seeing the other woman get something she wanted.

 

Spike’s expression was a study in conflicted emotions. “Dunno. Don’t want to start something I might not get to finish.”

 

“You planning on going somewhere, Blondie?” Faith asked, a little surprised at what the thought of Spike leaving did to her insides. At the thought of any of them leaving, she supposed. They had become a team, a family—the thing she’d always envied Buffy for, and what she’d always wanted.

 

Not that Faith would _ever_ admit that out loud, even if that didn’t make it any less true.

 

He moved his shoulders. “No, ‘course not. It’s just…”

 

Faith thought she understood. “Just let it come, huh? One day at a time, that’s what Angel was always telling me.”

 

“Peaches does occasionally offer good advice,” Spike admitted. “But you tell him I said that, and I’ll rip your tongue out,” he warned.

 

Faith just grinned in response. “Are you kidding me? Angel’s head doesn’t need to be any bigger than it already is.”

 

They came down the stairs side-by-side, and Faith couldn’t help but be pleased by the look on Wesley’s face. His jaw didn’t go anywhere, but she knew when a guy wanted her. She got the feeling that if they hadn’t been planning this night out for a while, she might not have made it out of the hotel.

 

She watched in amusement as Fred came over to Spike, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in his shirt, obviously using it as an excuse to touch him. Faith wondered when Fred was going to take her advice and just jump him, because it looked like Spike needed a push in the right direction.

 

“You look nice.”

 

Faith looked up at Wesley. “You too,” she replied, and meant it. Not that he was dressed that differently, since they were just going to Lorne’s. There wasn’t a need to get all fancy or anything. Faith had just wanted to show him—well, she’d wanted to show him something. She couldn’t put it into words, even inside her own head.

 

They watched each other in comfortable silence until Angel and Connor finally emerged. Faith could tell that Fred had had something to say about what Connor was wearing, too.

 

He was the reason they were celebrating in the first place.

 

“Are we ready?” Angel asked.

 

“Sure,” Faith said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

 

The phone chose that moment to ring, and Faith watched as everyone looked at each other, trying to decide whether to take the call. The night had been cleared of appointments, so unless Spike had another vision, they were free.

 

“I’ll just take a message,” Fred commented. “We can always get to it tomorrow.” She picked up the phone, saying, “Hello, Angel Investigations.” There was a pause. “Oh, uh, sure. I’ll get him.” She looked at Connor. “It’s for you. It’s a girl.”

 

Faith hid a smirk as Connor turned bright red and took the handset, turning his back to the group with a glare that said they’d better give him some privacy. Fred herded Spike and Angel towards the front, and Faith brought up the rear with Wesley. “Looks like Connor’s found himself a friend.”

 

Wesley nodded. “I suppose so. He needs to be around people his own age.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what Spike said.” Faith didn’t comment on the fact that she’d rarely hung out with people “her own age.” Most of her friends had been older, and the only time she’d tried something different, it had been with Buffy and her friends.

 

Look how well that had gone.

 

Now, of course, things were different. Everything was different. If she’d thought about it, Faith wouldn’t have recognized her life these days. Not that she ever really thought about it, but there were moments that surprised her with their perfection.

 

“I hope he’s happy,” Wesley said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at the hotel entrance. Angel was only a few inches from the door, obviously waiting for Connor to join them. Spike and Fred were holding a quiet conversation.

 

Faith suddenly realized that Wesley had a vested interest in making certain that Connor was happy. He probably would never run short on guilt where Angel and his son were concerned. It was something she could identify with; there were certain people that Faith couldn’t think about without her own measure of guilt.

 

She didn’t say anything; Faith didn’t have the words.

 

Connor came out of the hotel then, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his khaki pants. He flushed again as they all turned to look at him. When no one spoke, Faith rolled her eyes. “Well?” she asked. “What did she want?”

 

He shrugged. “She has this dance. She said she wanted me to go with her.”

 

Angel’s face lit up. “She asked you to go to a dance with her?”

 

“Yeah.” Connor shuffled his feet, and then a slow grin broke out over his face. “She said the girls have to ask the guys, and there wasn’t anyone else she wanted to ask.”

 

“You’ll need a suit,” Fred decided.

 

Connor looked a little alarmed by that. “What?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Angel advised him. “Wearing a suit won’t kill you. I’ve done it before.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re a ponce,” Spike said. “Doesn’t mean anything if it didn’t kill _you_.”

 

Angel glared at him. “Shut up, Spike. Connor, don’t listen to him.”

 

“What’s a ponce?” Connor asked.

 

“Your father,” Spike replied. “No more need be said.”

 

Faith listened as Angel tried to come back with an equally smart comment and failed—and she laughed.

 

This was what she’d always wanted.

 

~~~~~

 

Faith sprinted across the distance, knowing that she was going to be too late. Impossibly, Wesley twisted out of the way of the knife, and she watched as he twisted his assailant’s arm so that the knife meant for him buried itself to the hilt in its owner’s stomach. She reached them in time to plunge her stake into the demon’s back, watching as its body collapsed at her feet.

 

“Faith!” Angel’s voice called her back to the fight. “Help Connor!”

 

Connor was fighting four demons at once, and Faith could tell that he didn’t need any help. Still, Angel was the boss, and Connor was his kid, so she moved in that direction. Wesley could apparently take care of himself.

 

She didn’t question the pride she felt at that knowledge.

 

The kid was moving with an innate grace that Faith still found a little spooky. He was like the fighters in those martial arts movies, the ones you knew were helped along by wires, but it was all natural talent with Connor.

 

She glanced around, checking to be sure that Wesley was still okay, before looking over at Spike, who fought with a feral smile, back-to-back with Angel.

 

The scene had the comfort of familiarity. There was always a battle to be fought, demons to kill and bad guys to beat. It had taken Faith a long time to appreciate the fight for more than the adrenalin it sent pumping through her veins, for the excitement inherent in risking her life night after night.

 

Faith had always been the Slayer who had liked the fight because it was a fight; Buffy had been the one to see it as more—as a duty and an obligation. Faith could understand that now, could see that there was more.

 

She finally wanted more.

 

If she thought about it too hard, Faith knew that a fight like this would end her life. One day, one night, she wouldn’t be fast enough, strong enough, smart enough—and that would be the end. She didn’t really let herself think about it, though. Faith had faced death and beat it back once before. She would probably do so again before her number was up. Her motto was, and always had been, to live for the moment.

 

It was want, take, have—that much hadn’t changed. Faith just wanted different things now.

 

Faith looked over at Wesley, watching as he straightened after killing his last demon. Yeah, she definitely wanted different things these days.

 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Angel demanded.

 

Her attention was caught by the two vampires, who were now glaring at one another. “Trying to keep you from getting yourself killed,” Spike replied heatedly.

 

“Did I look like I needed any help?” Angel asked. “I was doing just fine, Spike.”

 

“You were about to get skewered, Angel,” Wesley said.

 

Angel huffed. “I’m never going to get this shirt clean.”

 

He turned so that Faith could see him better, and she snickered as she realized why he was bitching. There was demon blood all down the front of his blue silk shirt. “Maybe you should try wearing something you don’t mind getting ruined,” Faith suggested.

 

“He doesn’t have anything he doesn’t mind getting ruined,” Connor said with a grin. “Like his hair. How do you get it to stick straight up?”

 

Angel glared at him, although Faith could tell that he wasn’t really all that angry. “You’ve been hanging out with Spike too much.”

 

“Yeah, so?” Spike asked. “It’s good for him. God forbid he take himself as seriously as you do.”

 

“I don’t take myself seriously,” Angel protested.

 

Faith grinned. “Yes, you do.”

 

“Do not.” He looked dangerously close to pouting.

 

“You have your moments, Angel.” Wesley shook his head, then glanced over at Faith. “Are you riding back with him?”

 

She shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I think I’ll hitch a ride with you, if that’s alright.”

 

Wesley raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, merely waited for her to join him. Faith sensed that he wanted to touch her, and so she moved closer, letting her arm brush his. “Nice moves tonight.”

 

“Thank you.” His voice was mild, cool, and Faith realized that she was finding it easier to read him now; she knew that his tone was a mask.

 

It always was when he sounded like that, like he didn’t care. If there was one thing Faith had learned about Wesley, it was that he always cared.

 

“Aren’t you going to say anything about my moves?” Faith asked, baiting him.

 

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “What would you like me to say?” he countered.

 

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” she challenged.

 

“The truth is that you move like no one I’ve ever known.”

 

“I hope that’s a good thing.” She hated how hopeful her voice sounded, but it was out now. Faith was girl enough to want a compliment every now and then.

 

She was girl enough to fish for compliments if she couldn’t get them any other way, too.

 

Wesley met her eyes, and Faith saw the fire there. “Always.”

 

Nothing was said on the way back to his apartment, but the silence seemed to speak volumes. They hadn’t always been so comfortable with one another, and that in itself was a change.

 

They made it inside his apartment before clothing began to come off. Stumbling into the bathroom, he fumbled with the taps to start the shower running. Faith concentrated on peeling off her clothing, noting the way he seemed unable to look away from her. She put an extra shimmy in her movements, teasing him.

 

His mouth came down on hers, the kiss almost bruising in its intensity. Faith welcomed it, relishing the battle for dominance that neither of them would win. The water was hot when they stepped under the spray, and she could feel slick skin and taut muscles under her hands. She threw her head back as Wesley bent his head to kiss her neck, one hand fondling her breast and the other delving further south.

 

Faith lost herself in him. Not that she’d ever admit it, but sex had never been like this before. It had never been more than a physical exercise, as pleasant as that might be. With Wesley, she let go as often as she took control.

 

It was another one of those things that Faith didn’t think about too much. She hadn’t allowed herself to lose control like this for a very long time—not since the first guy she’d thought she’d loved, the one who had first taught her that men had a tendency to screw you over, so you might as well screw them first.

 

She and Wesley had already used each other long before they were fuck-buddies. So maybe it only made sense that they were more to one another now.

 

Drying off was just another way to touch each other, just another way to get their hands on each other. They made their way to Wesley’s bed, naked limbs tangling and tripping them up. Skin flushed from sex and hot water, Faith pushed him back onto the mattress, putting experienced hands and mouth to work for both of them.

 

He let her take control, tangling his hands in her wet locks. Faith moved with deliberation, watching as he let go, his surrender sweet, the pleasure that washed over his face bringing her over the edge soon thereafter.

 

She lay draped over his chest, knowing that dawn wasn’t far off. If she was going to leave, she needed to do it soon, and yet Faith found herself unable to move.

 

Wesley’s arms encircled her, and he spoke one hoarse word. “Stay.”

 

So Faith stayed the night, knowing that Wesley wasn’t going to get the wrong idea. Not when this was what she wanted.

 

It was strange how things could change.


	12. Chapter 12

Spike looked up from his book as the dark-skinned man came walking into the hotel lobby. The way he moved told Spike both that he knew the hotel well and that he wasn’t very comfortable being back.

 

“Can I help you?” He managed to keep the hostility out of his voice, but just barely.

 

The man shifted his weight. “Angel around? Or Wesley?”

 

“Wesley hasn’t come in yet,” Spike replied. “And Angel’s in bed. Something I can do for you?”

 

He shook his head. “No. I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d—”

 

“Charles.” Spike watched as Fred came out of the office. She didn’t appear very happy to see the man.

 

“Fred.” Gunn straightened his shirt. “How’s it going?”

 

“It’s going,” she replied. “How are you?”

 

“Good. Great,” he said. “Where is everybody?”

 

“They’re around.” Fred threw a rather desperate look at Spike. “Have you met Spike?”

 

Gunn shook his head. “Just now, I guess. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Yeah,” Spike replied. “Think I’ll get something to eat. Let you two get caught up.” He purposely didn’t meet Fred’s eyes as he left, knowing that she didn’t really want to be left alone with her ex-boyfriend.

 

Too bad, because Spike didn’t particularly want to be in the same room with the two of them and the tension. It made the expansive lobby feel almost claustrophobic.

 

He heated up his blood, leaning hard against the counter. Spike was still feeling a little foggy from the previous evening. The vision had hit him with a vengeance, nearly incapacitating him. In fact, Angel had made him stay at the hotel with Fred while they took care of things.

 

Spike didn’t want these visions, although he regarded them as just compensation for his past crimes when he was feeling a little melancholy. It was fitting to have the role of rescuer forced upon him when in the past he’d been the monster wreaking havoc, and yet they hurt—his head, his heart, his soul. They left him vulnerable and weak, and if there was anything Spike hated more than being vulnerable and weak, he didn’t know what it was.

 

“You okay?”

 

He turned to see Fred watching him with anxious eyes. “That was quick,” he replied, not answering her question.

 

She was always asking him that. Everyone was, with their eyes if not with their lips. Even Angel, whom Spike would have thought couldn’t care less about his wellbeing. They all wanted to know if he was going to be okay.

 

The truth was that he wasn’t okay, and he hadn’t been for a long time now. He was growing used to it at this point.

 

“He was just stopping in,” Fred said. “We don’t have much to say to each other anymore.” She swung herself up on the counter to let her feet dangle. “Spike…”

 

“I’ll be alright,” he assured her. “Last night was just a bad one.”

 

“They got bad for Cordelia, too.” He could hear the worry creeping into her voice now. “Before she got turned into half a demon.”

 

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m all demon, then, huh?”

 

“You’re not all demon,” Fred responded, her tone sharp. “You shouldn’t cut yourself down like that.”

 

“Ask Angel,” Spike shot back. “He can tell you what a vampire is.”

 

“It’s not about what you are, it’s about what you do.” She moved so quickly that he was hardly ready for it, hopping off the counter and getting right up in his face. “You’re not going to give up on me, are you?”

 

“I don’t give up,” Spike said, stung. “I’m no quitter.”

 

“Good.” She stepped back. “Just checking.”

 

Spike sighed. “I’m just…tired, is all, and it’s not going to get better.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Fred protested. “You don’t know that for sure.”

 

“I know.” Spike shook his head. “Sorry, pet. I’m not good company today. Maybe I’ll try to get some sleep.”

 

Fred stared at him, and he was caught by the expression in her eyes, not knowing what to make of it. Half-fearful, half-brave, she darted forward and pressed her lips to his. Spike was too stunned to do anything for the space of a heartbeat, and then he kissed her back.

 

It had been so long since he’d been touched. So long since he’d been kissed with this sort of softness—not since Anya, if he had to be honest. Before that, not since Buffy had given him her thank-you kiss after he’d been tortured by Glory.

 

The kiss itself was chaste, more friendly than impassioned, although there was the potential of more. The potential tasted like hope—sweet as honey.

 

“Oh,” she murmured after he pulled back. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

 

“Already regretting it?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, even though her rejection stung.

 

Fred shook her head. “No! Not at all. It’s just that Faith told me I should jump your bones, but I really wasn’t planning on doing anything like that unless I knew you were okay with it. And then you just looked like you could use something, and I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean. I hope you don’t mind. Do you mind? I know you don’t like me like that, but I—”

 

Spike cut off her words the only way he knew how, stopping her lips with his own, swallowing the rest of her rambled explanation. This embrace was as chaste as the first, his hands framing her face rather than wandering.

 

It was so easy, so restful. So simple. Spike wanted something real, something simple this time around. He didn’t think he had the energy for the grand passion. His love for Buffy had used him up and burned him out. The return of his soul and the visions had wrung him dry.

 

“I like you,” he murmured when they finally broke off the kiss. “It’s just that I don’t have much left in me for more, Fred.”

 

She just smiled at him. “Isn’t this enough?”

 

~~~~~

 

“Hold still.” Spike watched in amusement as Angel tried to straighten Connor’s tie. He had to admit that the kid cleaned up well.

 

“I am holding still,” Connor replied. “Why do I have to wear this again?”

 

“It’s traditional.” Angel took a step back. “Okay, I think that’ll do. Do you have the corsage?”

 

“Fred’s got it in the fridge downstairs,” Spike said. “He’ll be fine, Peaches.”

 

Angel ignored him. “You have plenty of cash, right? And you’re sure you don’t want me to drive you? Because I could drive you. It’s not a problem.”

 

“Enough,” Spike ordered him. “He’ll be fine, Angel. Stop being such a mother hen.”

 

Angel turned to glare at him this time. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

 

“No, but you need it.”

 

Connor rolled his eyes, all sign of nerves gone in the wake of the familiar bickering. “I’ll be fine, Dad. I promise.” Angel opened his mouth to speak. “I’ll call you if there’s any trouble.”

 

Spike moved to one side to allow him to get out the door, following a few steps behind the two of them, watching as Angel tailed his son downstairs. The emotion on his face was of pride mixed with worry, and although Spike would have never admitted to it, he understood.

 

You could say he felt the same way, given that he had quite a fondness for the boy.

 

Spike watched as Fred put the finishing touches on his tie, smoothed out the front of his jacket, and pronounced him handsome. Connor shuffled his feet a bit and muttered a disclaimer, and then he escaped out the door, happy to get away from the emotions the others seemed bent on showering him with.

 

He caught Fred’s eye, and she gave him an apologetic smile. “I’ve gotta go. I have a meeting with a friend.”

 

“Is this about taking a position with the physics department?” Angel asked with interest.

 

She shrugged. “We’re still talking about it. I’m not ready to make a decision. I keep thinking that I want to go back, but we’ll see.”

 

“Have fun,” Angel said. “We’ll see you later.”

 

Spike watched her go and felt adrift. Wesley and Faith were out for the night, and Spike suspected that Wesley hadn’t wanted to be around for this latest reminder of how grown-up Angel’s son was.

 

They all did penance in their own way, Spike thought. They all had their redemption to work out.

 

He wandered into Angel’s office, dropping into the chair across from his desk. Instead of ordering him out, Angel poured both of them a drink and handed him a glass. “It still hits me,” Angel commented out of the blue. “How old he is.”

 

“He’s a good kid,” Spike replied, meaning it. He could offer the compliment since it was about Connor, and not Angel. “You should be proud.”

 

“I am.” Angel sighed. “I talked to Buffy the other day.”

 

Spike closed his eyes against the blow. Hearing her name always got to him like that. “You tell her where I was?”

 

“She didn’t ask, and I didn’t offer the information.” Angel gave him a long look. “She’s coming to L.A. soon, and she wanted to see me. I just thought you might want to know.”

 

“You two getting back together?”

 

Angel gave him a faint smile. “Do you really think that’s ever going to be possible, Spike?”

 

“Couldn’t say,” he replied. “The world is full of impossible things.”

 

“Are you really not going back?” Angel asked. “She forgave me. She could forgive you, too.”

 

Spike was quiet for a very long while. Angel didn’t have all the details, but he had enough. There had been a night not long ago when they had somehow managed to get very drunk together. Angel had been feeling melancholy, and Spike hadn’t minded taking part in the drinking, and most of the story had leaked out.

 

Spike had believed that if Angel ever found out a tenth of what transpired, he would be dust. Instead, Angel had merely gotten a nostalgic smile on his face and murmured, “She does make you crazy sometimes, doesn’t she?”

 

Of course, it had probably helped that he was too drunk to stand up at the time.

 

“I don’t belong there anymore,” Spike said.

 

What he didn’t say, what he would never say, was that Spike didn’t trust her, not with the visions coming upon him so suddenly. Not with his weakness. Not when he needed someone to keep him anchored.

 

Angel looked at him with compassion—the expression of a brother who has learned to take pity on a younger sibling’s weaknesses and trials. Spike knew that Angel was seeing family, even if neither one of them liked to admit that the relationship existed.

 

“Then it’s probably a good thing you found your way here.”

 

It was more of a welcome than Spike had ever expected, and it warmed something within him. For the first time in their long relationship, there was no hint of rivalry. It sapped the bitterness out of their association, leaving only a long history.

 

“Guess it is,” Spike finally replied, when he was sure he could speak without too much emotion choking him. “You lot would be wandering blind without me.”

 

It was a mark of how much things had changed that Angel didn’t argue with him, although it couldn’t be said that he agreed either.

 

~~~~~

 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Wesley’s voice broke into Spike’s concentration on the video game, and he sighed. The other man only came looking for him when he wanted something, usually another researcher who knew more than the faint smattering of Latin that Angel could grasp.

 

Spike had finally sat down with the man a week or two before, answering the questions Wesley had asked about his soul and how he’d gotten it. Not all of them, of course. There were secrets that Spike had no intention of divulging, but he’d told his story. In a way it had been nice, to have someone that interested in what he had to say. Spike couldn’t say that had happened in a good long while.

 

Actually, Spike couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

 

Wesley had professed himself satisfied, however, and so Spike couldn’t see why he would be looking for him. “What’s up?”

 

“I think you should know about a prophecy,” Wesley said, taking a seat on the free chair. Connor, with the help of Spike and Faith, had convinced Angel to set one of the rooms up as a sort of lounging area, with a television and gaming system. It had been Connor’s idea, but Spike had given the boy pointers on how best to convince Angel, and Faith had joined in the application of pressure.

 

Later, Angel had commented to Spike what a great idea he’d had in putting aside the room, since Connor could be found at the hotel a lot more these days. Spike, to his credit, had kept his mouth shut on whose idea it had really been.

 

Okay, so he’d kept his mouth shut for all of two minutes.

 

Wesley was obviously waiting for him to reply, so Spike finally said, “Fine. What prophecy?”

 

“It’s about a souled vampire,” Wesley replied. “When you arrived, I wasn’t certain if it applied to you or to Angel.”

 

“Try Angel,” Spike said without looking up from his game. “He’s the one with the grand destiny, not me.”

 

Wesley sighed. “Don’t you even want to hear what it’s about?”

 

Spike paused the game, putting down the controller and turning to face the man. He had a feeling that Wesley wasn’t going to let this drop until Spike knew every detail of the prophecy, since he was apparently under some mistaken impression that it was his duty to fill Spike in. “Fine. What’s it about?”

 

“After a number of apocalypses and battles, the souled vampire will be granted his humanity.” Wesley seemed to be watching carefully for Spike’s reaction to the news.

 

Spike shrugged. “Is that it? Sometime in the distant future one or both of us is going to be human?”

 

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “Angel was a little more excited when we told him about the prophecy.”

 

“Angel always did have an inflated sense of self-importance,” Spike said with a wry smile. “It’s part of his charm.”

 

Wesley grinned at that. “I can’t say that I disagree with you, but I thought you should know. It’s just as likely that the prophecy applies to you. It’s also just as likely that you’ve created your own destiny by pursuing your soul. It’s unprecedented.”

 

“I figured. Hurts like a bitch, too,” Spike said. He leaned back in his chair. “Why are you really telling me this, mate?”

 

“Because we all need a reason to fight, Spike,” Wesley replied. “Angel fights as much for his chance at being human as he does for his redemption. I thought you would like to know, whether you believe the prophecy applies to you or not.”

 

Spike considered that. “Don’t think the idea of being human again appeals to me all that much, but thanks for the information.” He paused, then asked, “What do you fight for?”

 

Wesley shook his head. “I’m not sure anymore,” he admitted. “I just know that it’s important that I do.”

 

 “Yeah.” Spike nodded, knowing exactly what Wesley meant. They fought because they knew no other way, their purpose unclear, knowing only that the battle meant something to someone.

 

“Why do you fight, Spike?”

 

He smiled a little, the melancholy in his eyes lightening a bit, remembering the child they had saved the other night, and his mother’s words of gratitude. “Me? I fight because it makes a difference sometimes. I reckon that’s enough.”

 

Most days it was enough.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike knew he was being a coward. Up on the roof, there was no chance of the Slayer sensing him. Not that he was the only one making himself scarce. Faith had disappeared as soon as she found out that Buffy was coming to the Hyperion. Buffy wanted to talk to Angel about something, and Faith wasn’t going to be around for that drama, not after the last time the three of them had been in the same room. She’d told Spike about it when he’d asked, wondering what would scare the girl off, since Faith wasn’t afraid of much.

 

It wasn’t that he was afraid of her staking him. Spike figured Buffy had a right to dust him if that’s what she wanted. If that’s all it had been, he would have met her in the lobby and waited for her decision.

 

What he was most afraid of wasn’t his own ending on the end of her stake, but the chance that she wouldn’t stake him. Spike was afraid that she might forgive him. That one look into her eyes would entrance him, that he would be helpless against her Siren’s call.

 

In short, Spike was afraid of falling in love with her all over again. He knew that it was too much to hope that she would love him back.

 

Spike was tired of hopeless battles. Here, in L.A., with Angel and his group, he’d finally found a place. He was comfortable. He liked his life most days, when the visions weren’t too bad. Sunnydale and the Slayer had nothing to offer him.

 

Spike was really tired of being Love’s Bitch.

 

His hope was that if he avoided the temptation, if he didn’t see her or talk to her, he would be one step closer to getting over her. One of these days, when he was more certain of his own strength, he would send her a letter and apologize, and then she could read it or not as she chose.

 

Spike wondered if that day would ever come.

 

“She’s gone.”

 

Fred’s voice floated through the night air, interrupting his somber thoughts. “Is she now?”

 

“She didn’t stay very long,” Fred informed him. “Came in, talked to Angel for about an hour, and then she left again. I guess she was meeting with her dad or something, and thought she’d be polite.”

 

Spike nodded, fumbling in his pockets for a cigarette. He didn’t smoke much these days. Angel frowned on it, saying that it set a bad example for Connor, but on occasion he and Faith would sneak a fag or two. He needed one now.

 

He shook one out of the pack, lit it with a practiced gesture, and took a deep drag. “Can I?” Fred asked.

 

Spike gave her a surprised look, and then watched as she inhaled deeply, letting out a stream of smoke. “Didn’t know you smoked.”

 

“I don’t,” Fred replied. “Not anymore. I quit awhile back. I smoked a little in high school, when I went to parties to fit in.”

 

He took his cigarette back and offered her another, smiling when she shook her head. “Glad I’m not too bad an influence on you, pet.”

 

“You’re what kept me here, Spike,” Fred told him. His face must have betrayed his surprise, because she continued. “Before you came, I didn’t have any reason to be here, not that I could see. I just didn’t know what else to do, so I stayed.”

 

“Not sure that’s supposed to make me feel good,” Spike replied. “Might be better if you got out of this life.”

 

Fred shook her head. “You can’t see what I’ve seen and go on with your life as though nothing has changed. I learned that a long time ago.”

 

Spike turned to face her. “Not sure why you’re telling me this.”

 

“Because I thought you needed to hear it,” Fred replied. “In case you thinking your being here doesn’t matter, because it does.”

 

He hesitated only a moment before kissing her, this embrace a repeat of the one a few days before. Neither of them had spoken of the kiss, and Spike had the impression that Fred was waiting for him to make a decision.

 

Spike had made his decision. Perhaps he’d made it the night he’d saved her life, the night he’d opened his eyes to find her watching over him as he slept.

 

Maybe Fred was right. Maybe this was enough.

 

And Spike felt the first stirrings of true happiness within his soul.


End file.
